To Want To
by SevenOverThree
Summary: He'd always figured that his memories were a thing forever beyond his grasp. His wall-monster had consumed them all, leaving nothing but an empty expanse behind. But lately, he's been doubting that's true. On temporary hiatus.
1. A Last Name

**Disclaimer:** Johnny C (and all related) is property of the great comic artist; Jhonen Vasquez.

**Authors Notes:** Just a wisp of a plot I thought up one day. I apologize if Devi or Johnny are out of character. Although, Devi probably_ is_ OOC.

* * *

He had been wandering around outside for a number of hours, only sitting once his legs hurt from him having walked for so long. The homicidal maniac didn't pay much, if any attention to the store behind him; it only stood out the smallest bit, and though he didn't know why, a flutter of familiarity blossomed somewhere deep in whatever remained of his heart. This seemed a good a place as any to rest, if not better, seeing as how some part of him liked the area. Vaguely, Johnny searched the three years of memories he still had left - no, he did not recognize this place. He looked closer at the building.  
It looked old, as though it had been there for quite some time, but judging by the 'going out of business' signs, it _wouldn't_ be there for much longer. A flicker of sadness slid into his heart. Why, though? He peered through the glass window into the store beyond. _Oh_. Johnny frowned - it was an _art_ store. No wonder he'd liked the area. Perhaps he'd once been a regular of this place, back when his Sickness (1) had not appeared and consumed all memory of his creativity. Thankfully, it was not there anymore to take his thoughts away from him again.  
Huffing out a breath, he turned, sitting again on the rough pavement of the sidewalk, watching the cars roll on by. He tested out the nearly nonexistent muscles in his legs - nope, his legs still were sore; too sore for him too walk the long distance home, and he had no intention of stopping once he began to move again.

"Johnathan...?" Johnny looked up, a confused look on his face. Nobody _ever_ called him that. For that matter, he could not recall ever even having introduced himself as such. It was always either 'Johnny', or 'Nny'.  
As he looked up, an older man with grayed hair entered his vision. This man had a grin on his face, as though the maniac was an old friend. "Oh my god, it _is_ you. Johnathan Covaks; you used to come by here every Friday." Johnny's eyes widened, and as he stood up, he found himself moving away from this strange man.

"Pardon me, but... who are you?" Johnny's hands itched to grab one of the daggers inside his jacket. This man was too friendly - and Johnny had never met him before. Then, a realization hit the manic depressive male. The old man had used a last name when he had referenced him. A _full_ last name. But before he could say anything, the man laughed.

"Oh, sorry. Forgot how long it's been. You haven't been here in nearly four and a half years; should of known you might not remember me." He held out a hand "I'm Walter Cooke, I've been running this here art store for years. You used to come by this store every Friday for paint and other supplies about four and half years ago." Johnny desperately searched his mind for a memory of this man, his store, or even the street itself. Nothing was immediately recognizable though, only familiar somehow. The homicidal man took a few steps closer, only reluctantly shaking the offered hand -this man was from his past, and he didn't want him hating him just yet- before speaking.

"What did you say before?" 'Walter' gave Johnny an odd look.

"You used to come by here every Friday?" Johnny shook his head, taking a half-step forward, his voice changing to one of insistence, and desperation.

"_Before _that. You called me a name. Johnathan something. What was it, tell me!" He clenched his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms. "_Please_!" He added. Walter, who previously had tensed up at the unusual reaction, relaxed.

"You... I called you Johnathan Covaks." Johnny slouched a little, turning to look at the sidewalk as a twitch of a smile crept onto his face. That was his name; Covaks. "You don't remember?" The grey-haired man asked. Johnny looked back at Walter.

"Nothing past three years ago... A fracture here, a figment there... But nothing _clear _beyond when I encountered that horrible Sickness." Johnny sighed slightly. "I've only just defeated it, you know." Walter frowned.

"You got sick? For _three years_? No wonder you stopped coming." The man came closer. "Must of been one hell of a virus." Johnny frowned a little.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to think about something else, now." Walter nodded, looking apologetic.

"Sorry." Johnny looked back at the store. Walter had said that he -Johnny- used to visit the store every Friday, and buy paint. It was going out of business now. Had he himself been the reason for it's success back when?

"Why are you closing your store, Mr. Walter?" He asked. Walter looked further down the street.

"Oh, this new place opened up further down the road. Got better, newer, more effective things than what this old man can stock." He sighed, opening the door to his own building and entering, Johnny following. "Guess nobody appreciates art done the old-fashioned way, now. Want it done quicker." He turned to face the maniac. "I'll tell you this, though, Nothing beats the old methods." Johnny found no way he could agree with the man he had apparently once known. After all, he did not remember this fellow, his store, or even the days when he painted. He could not even remember what kind of tools he used, though he could safely suspect it was the old-fashioned ones this man had once sold.

"In art; Quality over quantity." Johnny muttered, wishing he could mean what he was saying. He didn't remember painting. Not at all.

He turned his attention to an empty canvas standing near the back of the store. Paint and some brushes were set out on a built-in shelf, and the maniac couldn't help but walk over and dip his fingers into the red and black cups, dragging his paint-covered hands across the white and creating thin, twisted lines, mixing the paint in a big, intermingling knot at the canvas's center. The room flickered, changing into somewhere else for a second. Johnny trailed some green across the white canvas, and soon the room was no longer a store. He was in a studio - small, but comfortable, and filled as much as possible with paintings. Johnny's hair was at it's normal length, only slightly neater, and he wore a white smock splattered with various colors of acrylic paint.

Johnny blinked, picking up one of the brushes, and examining it. It was a thin, but sturdy wood, it's bristles long and soft. He looked at the canvas in front of him - he was in the middle of a portrait of a demon with twisting tentacles and biting mouths, a work he had promised to a lady down the road a little. The creature itself was going to be mainly reds, blacks, and greens, but he'd thought of using a navy blue for some of the shading. Right now, though, he'd sketched it out, and it needed only to be painted. He dipped his brush in the green cup, letting the tip of the brush hit red, and touched the brush to his canvas. This one was going to be his best yet.

In reality, Walter had stopped talking, having turned to see Johnny hunched over slightly; he'd stopped at the stocked canvas that had been set up for later display. Walter wondered vaguely if he should speak, but something said to just let the man be. After all, Johnathan had said he'd been sick for years. Who knew if he'd painted at all during that time. Perhaps this was the first time in a long time that the younger man had even been _near _paints.  
The door jingled as someone entered; the girl who'd recently started buying canvas's and paint there. He looked over at Johnny, who had twitched at the sound of the bell.

"I'm sorry" The younger man slurred disjointedly "but if you want to request a piece, I'm afraid you'll have to wait..." He jerked again as the girl gasped. "I'm too busy with Hannah Bridgette's request of a nightmare demon..." Walter immediately realized what as going on: Johnny was hallucinating, but about something from his past. He rushed over to the girl, making shushing motions.

"Quiet, Miss Delgado; I think he's remembering his past." He noticed the girl looked terrified. "What's wrong?" He whispered.

"He... he tried to kill me once...!" The old man looked over at Johnny, who was now half-through painting something that did indeed look like a 'nightmare demon'.

"Mr. Covaks?" Walter whispered. "He wouldn't kill somebody." Devi scoffed, and Walter watched as Johnny jerked again. "At least, back when _I _knew him, he wouldn't."

"Then you must've missed a _lot_. Johnny's been killing for a while. You know all the murders that have been going on?" She asked loudly, eliciting a grumbling noise from Johnny. "That's been him." She narrowed her eyes as she looked closer at the maniac. "Wait... What is he _doing_?" Walter grinned.

"He's painting. A few years ago, he used to come here every Friday to buy paint. Never was a Friday I didn't see Mr. Johnathan Covaks in this very store." Devi's eyes widened.

"Hold on... Covaks? _J. Covaks_?" Walter nodded, his smile fading a little when Johnny growled at the noise Devi was making. The old man made shushing noises, but Devi ignored him. "I have a piece by an artist named '_J. Covaks_' in my bedroom! It was my favorite piece out of all the art I owned, but he just vanished out of the art scene one day after-" But she was cut off by an angry yell from Johnny.

"Quiet! Shut up, _shut up_!" He was clutching a pair of knives tightly in his thin, bony hands. "Save your noise for later!" But as quickly as he had gotten angry, the mood vanished, replaced by confusion. "I'm... This isn't..." He shook his head, glancing around the store. "What happened?" His eyes fell onto Devi, and he flinched, dropping the weapons as he searched for a place to go, somewhere Devi was not.

"I though you said you couldn't paint anymore?" She asked, pointing behind him. Johnny turned, and marveled at the half-finished piece behind him. Had he done this?

"I - I _couldn't_..." His fingers traced over the delicate lines, but hovered just over them, not touching the still-wet paint. "I _haven't_ been able to for _years_." Devi smirked.

"Then what's that?" Johnny scoffed.

"Obviously, it's a painting." He looked at her. "But what of, I have no idea." He pulled his arms closer to his chest. "And it does not help that it's only half finished. Evidently whatever hallucination I was undergoing was interrupted before I was able to finish it." He looked away from the pair, heading across the store to the exit. "If you don't mind..." He trailed off, pushing the double-door open and leaving, blatantly ignoring the canvas he had half-covered with some strange tendrilled beast with too many mouths. Devi, who had watched Johnny go, turned again to look at the abandoned painting. It really was a beautifully horrific image - it would be a waste to leave it there.

"Hey, Mr. Cooke... Do you mind if I take this home with me? It'd be a shame to leave it." The old man nodded, and Devi couldn't help but grin as she grabbed the canvas, covering it over while carefully avoiding the wet paint. Though Johnny terrified her, his past was in there somewhere.

He just needed the right trigger for his conscious to break through, releasing whoever he used to be.

* * *

(1) - I don't think Johnny's wall-monster was ever given any sort of name, so I've taken to calling it a 'Sickness'; using it as a species name for the kind of creature it is.


	2. A New Hope

**Disclaimer:** Johnny C (and all related) is property of the great comic artist; Jhonen Vasquez.

**Authors Notes:** Well. Upon the good reception this story got, I decided I wanted to write more. So, what was _originally_ going to be a oneshot is getting more chapters. Devi and Johnny are like to still be OOC.

* * *

He had quite regretted leaving the painting behind. After all, it had been an image from his past, and because he had been upset at not being able to finish it, and having had Devi so close to him, he had opted to leave it there rather than take it home with him. He knew that it was far too late to go back now; it had taken hours to simply get to where the store had been, and it didn't help that he'd not actually payed attention to where he'd been walking. Johnny groaned angrily, kicking a wall and swearing at himself when the already shaky wall crumpled slightly under the sudden force of his steel-toed boot. Damn. Now he had to repair a wall, too.

'_No need to get so _angry_, Johnny._' Meat said amusedly, emphasizing the word 'angry'. Johnny turned to the figure.

"Shut up, you. I destroyed the _Doughboys_, I can certainly obliterate _you_, as well." Meat said nothing in return, choosing only to laugh. The maniac breathed out harshly. He didn't want to be in. The whole encounter with Mr. Walter Cooke had him antsy. Nailbunny would've probably told him to indulge his curiosity - to go back out to the store, or ask Devi about that painting he'd left behind. Perhaps she'd taken it home with her? "I'm going out, Meat."

'_But you just got back?_' Meat replied questioningly. Johnny paused. He _had_ just gotten back home. Why was he going out again so soon? This wasn't like him. Normally, he did all he could to avoid the world and all the irritants and wretched little goblins that filled it. He _hated_ mingling in the worlds filth. Now it seemed as though he was taking every opportunity to stay away from his haven home.

"I'm... bored." Johnny reasoned. "I just found out my last name. _'Covaks'_. I... feel I have to know more." Meat did not reply.

Johnny sighed, grabbing his CD player and slipping the headphones over his ears, letting classical music flood his hearing as he headed back out. He would not go back to Mr. Walter's art store just yet; he wanted to see if Devi had taken the painting back with her. And if she hadn't - well, he'd use the opportunity to try and apologize to her again. Perhaps his physical presence would help? Plus, he'd not picked his daggers back up upon dropping them. Devi would not merely leave _those_ laying around.

'_Have fun_,_ Johnny Covaks._' Meat muttered as the maniac once again left his home. Johnny ignored the ceramic thing. He didn't want it's voice in his head right now.

0o0o0o0

The thing in the painting was not a mere image, as Devi had found out. She had invited a new friend of hers, Tess, over not long after getting home, and upon seeing the unfinished art, her friend had shakily remarked that the creature was the very same thing that had killed Dillon, her last boyfriend. However, when Devi had pressed her for more, she had refused, saying with a defeated but stubborn tone that she'd prefer to not remember it again. Not long after, Devi had allowed the girl to leave. It was near to useless pressing someone for information if they feared the moment she needed.

'_The one who helped you create me is coming, Mother..._' Sickness muttered weakly. Though the thing had been thoroughly defeated, it would still occasionally speak. But no longer in a demanding and violent tone. For that matter, the only reason it still existed at all was that Devi could not figure out a way to fully obliterate it, only keep it weakened: keeping the purple screws that were it's eyes forced it to bend to her will. She controlled it, rather than it controlling her. She supposed it merely obeyed her (and helped, on occasion) because it knew it's existence was not in it's own hands any more. '_He's just entered the lobby, and is hurrying on his way up._' Devi did not respond to the painting-born thing. She had more pressing matters at hand - such as that, were her assumptions correct, it was _Johnny_ on his way up.

"I need a weapon... just in case..." She muttered, more to herself than anything. "Something strong." In the back of her mind, Devi felt Sickness shuffling around.

'_Perhaps a blade, Mother...? What about the ones you took from the art store...?_' Devi blinked. That was right. She _had_ taken Johnny's blades after he left - he'd dropped them when he saw her, and forgotten to pick them back up again. Rushing over into her tiny studio -which was actually a master bedroom; she slept in the guest room- she gave the area a once-over to find the painting, then removed one of the two smiley-face hilted blades from the easels shelf, hiding it in her boot, making sure that it did not cut her - the thing was strangely sharp. Johnny must have taken time out of every day to clean and maintain them.

And then somebody knocked on her door. It was hesitant, and the knocks themselves where short. Perhaps Johnny himself did not want to be here as much as Devi wanted him gone?

"One second!" Devi yelled out, pulling a cloth over the unfinished painting before she ran back towards the doorway. If it wasn't Johnny, she'd prefer the creature on the canvas to remain unseen. The knocking began again, a little more insistent than before, and Devi rushed over, undoing the locks before swinging the door open. It was Johnny. Devi resisted drop-kicking him. She knew he had a much softer side underneath his murdering exterior. Somewhere."What do you want?" She asked, aware that Johnny was wearing different boots then the knee-high things he normally did, and had no coat. He had nowhere to hide any weapons. 'But that doesn't mean he doesn't have any, Devi.' She thought.

"Just to talk." Johnny said. "I want to know if you took that painting. I'd like to have it back." Devi stared at him, causing the man to look away. "If you don't have it, I'll leave..."

"No, I did take it. Didn't think it right to leave it there." She turned, walking over toward her makeshift studio. Johnny, taking this as an invitation inside, followed, sitting down on her couch and looking as though he felt very out of place. Immediately upon exiting her living-room, Devi regretted it. She had just made herself vulnerable to one of the most effective killers she could recall having ever been in this city. 'But he didn't do anything...' She thought. He hadn't done a thing, simply sat down on her couch and watched her go, looking curious. Shaking her head, she grabbed the strange painting, shoving the other dagger into her boot alongside it's twin. She would not let him have his weapons back just yet.

"Is that it?" He asked her as she re-entered her living-room. She nodded, sitting on the chair opposite him, staring at the covered canvas. "Could you give it back, please?" He sounded uncomfortable. Good.

"Not yet." Devi replied. She had questions she wanted to ask him. "Could you tell me what it was of?" Johnny scoffed.

"I have no idea, Devi. A figment, a demon... Perhaps my wall-monster." He suddenly became curious again, withdrawing slightly as he began speaking to himself. "I never did see it, after all. I was too busy bleeding out onto the floor." He turned to look back up at her, some form of anticipation on his face. "Could I see it again?" Devi raised an eyebrow, but obliged the man, carefully removing the canvas's covering, revealing the strange creature beneath. She turned it around to face him, and his eyes narrowed as he stared it down. A great many 'hmm' noises came from him, occasionally followed by words muttered under his breath. Now curious herself, Devi spoke.

"Do you recognize it?" She asked. Johnny shook his head.

"Not at all." Devi sighed irritatedly.

"Then why do you keep staring at it?" Johnny shrugged, picking at a spot on his shirt.

"I was hoping something would come to me. Or that it would begin to move." He looked around her apartment, then turned back to her. "Could... we talk?" Devi raised an eyebrow.

"Isn't that what we're doing?" Johnny shook his head.

"No, _really_ talk... About..." He gulped, and then shied away just slightly. "About our date. What I did. Or..." He added "almost did." Devi growled under her breath, wishing she trusted him enough at least to hold one of the two blades in her boot up to one of his vital organs. She refused to let herself, as she was sure that Johnny would be able to take it from her somehow were she to put one in her hand. She leaned the painting against the side of he chair, then got up, marching over to him and jabbing a finger into his chest.

"Listen, you creep. Do you know who long it took for me to be able to go outside?" She jabbed him again, and took pleasure in watching him flinch into the couch, obviously trying to get away from her, and failing. "Months! I had to get my_ friends_ to go out and get groceries _for_ me, cause I was too scared that _you'd_ show up and finish what you'd started!" Devi paused, thinking of what to yell at him next, but Johnny, sensing the opportunity, began to yell back.

"You don't understand! You don't know the logic- the reasoning behind my actions that night! I didn't do it out of hate, Devi! I _swear_ that, it was not done of insanity, at least not completely." Devi curled her hands into fists.

"Then _why_, Johnathan! Why did you think it was better for me to be _dead_, rather than _alive_ and with _you_?" She was angry now, unsure of whether it was out of hatred of him or at the fact that, despite hating him, fearing him nearly completely, she still harbored lingering feelings for him. But she could see that Johnny was angry too - his face was contorted with a saddened rage, and he had stood up to return the glare she was giving him.

"I didn't want the rot to set in!" Devi, who had been about to reply with equal anger, found herself confused at his exclamation. What did he mean?

"You what?" She asked, anger not forgotten, but definitely subdued. Johnny seemed to become calm as well, sitting back down and letting a withdrawn sadness wash over his face.

"The rot. The inevitable _decay_ of the heart. In any relationship, a true, continuous, everlasting happiness is but impossible. A degeneration will set in, rotting what started, and eventually destroying any happiness that was there at the beginning." He looked out her window, gazing at the buildings of the city further off. "I've seen it - watched as new lovers became tired, then falling into bitter enemies. It's not real; not for me, at least." He sighed. "I wanted to preserve the moment - keep it at that instant, forever. Then, there would be no memory of degeneration. Only the beauty of the start." Devi felt her anger -previously surging- ebb away. He had ranted about something like this before, but she hadn't listened, had she? Of course not. She was too busy trying to run for her life. Apparently, though, Johnny was not done, because he continued. "Even whatever me and Squeegee have between us will decay away - as hard as I try, that innocence he has will not last into his teenage years. It will vanish, and he will become as jaded as the rest of this foul city. Teenagers are built to be brainwashed into foul little goblins."

"Who's Squeegee?" Devi asked, interrupting him before he had the chance to continue his rant. Johnny turned, an odd, surprised look on his face.

"Squee? He's my neighbor. His parents are nasty, _detestable_ things. They don't pay much of any attention to him, so I take him out for food and stuff occasionally. Things that those... _animals_... don't." He narrowed his eyes as he thought. "I'd kill them, if I could. Draw out their deaths for so long they'd _beg _me for release. But I made a promise to him that I'd let them live. As infuriating and inattentive as they may be, a child needs parents." Devi stared at him. He wanted to kill somebody -two somebodies- but was refusing simply because he did not want the child to be without parents - as bad parents as it seemed they were.

"So... you refuse to kill this kids parents... cause you don't want him to be homeless?"

"If you want to put it that way." He said, shrugging. "It's more that I... " He trailed off, and didn't finish. Devi's mind flickered back to his rant about his reasoning behind his attempt on her life. Now that she thought on it, it seemed he did what he did not to just kill her, but because he didn't want their relationship to falter; he loved her, and wanted it to stay that way forever. He wasn't insane - he was lonely. Too lonely.

"And you tried to kill me because you didn't want me to leave you?" In a way, Devi thought, it was really very romantic. Once you got past the homicidal part. Which she was still partly stuck on. Johnny shied away again. He seemed uncomfortable talking with her now. Which, she thought, wasn't at all strange. Last time he'd been in such close proximity to her, he'd gotten his face smashed in.

"In a way." He said, fiddling with his hands as he pulled them close to his chest. Devi turned, glancing down at the painting. Judging from what she'd heard from Mr. Cooke, Tess, and Johnny, the thing on the canvas was either just an image, and Tess had been lying, or the thing was a demon from Johnny's past. Either way, she found herself looking at the madman with more pity than anger, though she still did resent him for what he'd tried to do. Still, she thought, he deserved a bit of pity. People did not merely _choose _to go insane. It just happened.  
Devi stood up, walking towards him. Her mind was decided.

"Johnny..." He looked up at her, a curious, worried anticipation on his pale, bony face. "You tried to kill me that night." He looked away. "I thought I'd never be able to forgive you." He pulled his hands into a single, balled together fist, trying to look further away from her as she walked closer. "But you know what?" She kneeled down, gently turning his head so that he looked at her, at her now-smiling face. "I think I do, now." His face, previously sad and mildly hurt, lit up just slightly.

"Y-you do?" She nodded.

"A little." Her attention turned to the painting again. "And I think _that _is gonna be a staple of my plan for you, Johnny." He cocked his head to the side, looking so much like a curious puppy.

"Your plan for what?" She smiled again, turning to look at him.

"My plan to help you get your memories back."

* * *

So. Yeah. This is one of _those _kinda fics. If I haven't already lost your interest, it's gonna hopefully contain a lot of Devi/Johnny fluff, and repairing of their relationship. Maybe even some friendship fluff between Johnny and Squee, if the plot develops in that direction.

R&R! My chapters will only come out quickly if I get reviews, people!


	3. A Strange Morning

**Disclaimer:** Johnny C (and all related) is property of the great comic artist; Jhonen Vasquez.

**Authors Notes:** Sorry about the wait, guys. I'm not allowed on my computer quite so often as before, so updates will be slow. And I still think these two are wickedly OOC, despite the fact JTHM is all I've been reading lately - I'm on my eleventh or twelfth go, now.

* * *

Johnny wasn't quite sure how he'd managed to get permission to stay at Devi's house for the night - she wouldn't let him leave, but refused to let him sleep (or lay down, rather) anywhere other than the couch. She had locked the door to her room, and her studio, and told him point blank that so long as he was quiet and didn't try anything, she didn't mind him staying with her. He had heard a distinct tone of fear in her voice though - obviously she did not completely trust him yet. Understandable. He _had_ tried to kill her after all.

"I wonder how Meat is doing alone...?" He mused to himself, walking circles around her worn couch, glancing at the clock. It was one-thirty am. He still did not like sleeping. Even less so, now, after he realized he could lose control of his insanity. "Probably fine. He's just a ceramic statue, after all." Glancing at the clock again, Johnny licked his lips as a sudden craving for cherry assaulted him. He looked over at Devi's door, frowning. She wouldn't appreciate him leaving her house, even if only for a brainfreezy. Maybe he could call Squee? Johnny grinned, running over to the phone. That was brilliant! He'd get Squee to go to the 24/7, buy a Cherry Brainfreezy, and get him to bring it here! And plus, then he wouldn't be bored! "Oh..." Johnny began, frowning. "But Squeegee'll be sleeping now." Huffing in annoyance, Johnny plopped down on the floor, Laying on his back and staring at her ceiling. Before too long, his body began to slow down, and the maniac felt sleep trying to creep up on him. Quickly, he stood up, holding his head with one hand and the couch arm with the other as he waited out the head rush he'd gained from getting up so fast. He shook his head, moving closer to the couch. Unfortunately, with how he'd not slept for the past week, his body was more than eager to shut down for some rest, and Johnny found himself greeting the couch cushions with a little bit of force, slipping off them and collapsing onto the floor. His hand smacked off the nearby table and jerked his arm at a strange angle, but the man was already too deeply unconscious to notice.  
A few moments went by, and Johnny's breathing had begun to even out - he was asleep.

0o0o0o0o0

Once morning came, Devi was surprised at how quiet it was. Unnerved also hit her emotional pot today. She remembered how Johnny hated sleep. Generally he was a active fellow, and she figured that by this time, he'd be moving around more with how she'd be likely to be awake at this time. But her apartment was unusually silent.  
Had he left? She knew he like those slushies at the 24/7, maybe he'd gone out? Carefully, she undid the locks that held her door shut from the inside, peeking out. At first, she couldn't see him. Then, her eyes caught the steel-toed tips of a certain someones boots. He appeared to be laying face-first on the ground. She giggled, then remembered his depression problem. Johnny wouldn't have _killed _himself... would he?

"Johnny?" He didn't answer. She gulped, carefully creeping out towards him. Vaguely, she hoped he hadn't killed himself. She had just started to actually _want_ to fix their relationship...That wasn't any reason for him to commit suicide, right? But her worry disappeared when she took a closer look at him - he was fast asleep. He must have fallen asleep sometime during the night - she knew he was not a true insomniac, so he'd only be able to force himself to stay awake for so long before he collapsed from fatigue. She sighed, gently picking him up and laying him down on her couch. He might not like sleeping, but she was in no rush to wake him up. Lord knew he needed the sleep, as angry as he'd be when he woke up, or not. Maybe it would be good for his memory? However, Devi reasoned with herself, Johnny didn't just _not like _sleeping - he had told her once that he _despised _it. Who knew how angry he might be if she let him sleep the day away?  
Carefully, she knelt down beside him, nudging his shoulder and preparing to defending herself if the need arose. He didn't respond, so she moved a little closer, gentle gripping his chin and jerking his head back and forth.

"Mmmh... Uggh..." Johnny grumbled, his eyes slowly blinking open. Then, his eyes were wide open, and he jerked upright, sending Devi stumbling backwards into the nearby rectangular table in surprise. His gaze shot about the room rapidly before settling on Devi, and as the two locked eyes, he let out a breath. "Oh... Sorry." He muttered, sitting up and resting his head on his knees. "Sleep doesn't like _me _much, either." Devi let out a heavy breath before turning around, righting the table and sitting on it.

"Please try not to do that?" She asked. Johnny said nothing in reply.

"...Are you hungry?" He asked. Devi cocked an eyebrow at the strange turn the topic took. Johnny merely continued. "Squee's parents don't make him food very often, so _I_ learned how. I can make us _omelets_." Devi blinked. Johnny could cook? Why was he so morbidly underweight, then? Did he not eat any of the food he made? Ignoring Devi's confusion -or simply unaware of it-, Johnny stood up, making his way to the kitchen with Devi following behind him. "Do you have creamy peanut butter, bacon bits, cheese, and eggs?" Devi made a face.

"You want to put _peanut butter_ into an omelet? That sounds gross." Johnny turned to face her, grinning happily.

"But it _tastes _delicious." He turned again, rummaging threw her cupboards. "So? Peanut butter? Eggs? Cheese and bacon?" Though still iffy about Johnny's choice in omelet ingredients, Devi gestured at the fridge.

"Eggs, bacon and cheese are in the fridge. Peanut butter is-" But she was cut off by a triumphant noise from the manic man she was now choosing to share her apartment with.

"Aha! I found it." He placed the green-lidded plastic cylinder onto the counter, then proceeded to open the fridge door, letting cold air crawl over the floor and across their feet before nudging the machine shut with a leg as he moved, placing the final three food items onto the counter beside the peanut butter. "...Pans; on separate burners... a little dish for the butter..." He began to mutter to himself as he moved about the kitchen, and Devi watched with amusement as he went about the motions to create the unusual breakfast item. He looked to be very much enjoying himself, and seemed less uncomfortable than he'd been the day before.

"You like cooking, then?" Devi asked, her eyes focused on the pans as he began sprinkling his mixture of bacon bits, hand-shredded cheese slices, butter and peanut butter over the two omelet-filled pans.

"I guess so." Expertly, he flipped the soon-to-be omelet, leaving the ingredients facing the pan. "I'd imagine you enjoy me cooking rather than..." He withdrew closer into himself. "Well... you know..." A flicker of anger flared in Devi. She pushed it away.

'Not now.' she thought. 'I don't want to hate him right now.'

'_But hate can make people so much less barred from themselves..._' She heard Sickness mutter to her.

'It's too easy to hate everyone.' Devi replied mentally. 'And don't make me come back there to jam another paintbrush through you.' She added. Sickness did not respond. When Devi looked back up, Johnny was giving her a very odd look. "What?" Johnny, at first, said nothing. His expression turned to one of concern and as he turned back to the pair of omelets, he spoke, voice filled with a strange amount of uneasiness.

"Try not to speak to it if you can avoid it." He said softly. "It'll always try to take advantage of you." Devi stared at him as he gently prodded the not-omelets. How had he known?

"What do you mean?" The maniac set two plates next to the oven, carefully folding the omelets onto the two plates.

"The voice in your head. The one that seems more real than it should be? It'll talk sometimes, and you can hear it as though it's a real person - you can hear it like it's really speaking." He put the two plates on her kitchen table. "They'll make you think they're helping, when really they're just using you to get what _they_ want." Devi could only watch, silently staring at the manic man as he sat down to eat. "My Wall Monster was the same way; it didn't talk to me, but took over two of my voices and made them speak for it, instead of me." He turned to look up at her, hurt apparent on his pale face. "It was them that told me to 'immortalize the moment', back during our date. They where the ones who told me you would be better for me dead." Devi found no way to respond, and simply sat down, taking a bite out of the breakfast item Johnny had made.

"Oh, wow!" She exclaimed "This is _good_!" Johnny, who had previously looked depressed, brightened considerably.

"See, I told you! It sounds gross, but the vibrant flavor differences between the cheese, bacon and peanut butter _really_ make it!" (1) Suddenly, Johnny gasped.

"What?" Devi asked him. Johnny made an upset-sounding moan before getting up, letting his half-eaten omelet fall back onto the plate. "What's wrong?"

"I forgot!" He ran for the door, and Devi chased him.

"Forgot what?" She yelled at him.

"Squeegee!" He replied "It's his birthday! I promised him I'd be there!" Devi had barely a moment to lock her door before Johnny got antsy again, waiting for only a few seconds before jumping into her car. He gave her some time to get into the car, but the instant her door was shut, Johnny was shooting down the road - she was instantly fearing for her life and wondering if the man next to her even had a drivers license.

'To think' She said to herself 'I intend to help this guy out.' She gripped the edges of her seat as he turned sharply - she hadn't had time to buckle her seatbelt. 'First things first, though' She risked a glance in his direction. 'I've gotta teach Johnny to _drive_.'

* * *

(1) - I've never had this kind of Omelet before; I found this particular one on a website, and it was the first I clicked with the most common ingredients. Personally, I think it sounds revolting.

o0o0o

Quite a bit shorter, I think, but I like it. I had to get Squee in here somehow, and the idea of Johnny going to/holding a birthday party for poor neglected Squee was too good to pass up. Plus, it sounds totally like something Johnny would do. He does everything else, why not that? I doubt his _parents_ would hold a party for him.

Again, If I haven't lost your interest. Next chapter, if things go well, I'll have Devi and Johnny arrive at Todd's house... Johnny might remember something. I'm not sure. I need circumstances and a memory for him to remember. I plan for Sickness to play a bigger part later on, so I may try to get more involvement from her next chapter as well. Also, with the inclusion of Todd means I need to get Shmee in here.

It could be a while, but I swear to you I do not wish to abandon this quite yet.


	4. A Stranger Afternoon

**Disclaimer:** Johnny C (and all related) is property of the great comic artist; Jhonen Vasquez.

**Authors Notes:** Chapter four - I had a bit of fun figuring Johnny out for these scenes, as I know Johnny would not be the type to give Squee a normal present - with how he's always going on about protection from the goblins of the earth and such, I figured that he'd give him something like what I have him give. (no spoilers for you)

I've realized, though, that I have yet to include Johnny's mood swings - I'll figure that out soon enough.

* * *

The closer the Johnny got to his neighborhood, Devi noticed, the better he seemed to get at driving; when they had first left her apartment, Johnny was tearing down the road as though he'd never driven in his life, but as they got further and further into the area she recognized as Johnny's territory, his driving ability got better - more careful, more calm. Though she was thoroughly gladdened at finally being able to do up her seat-belt, she was distinctly irritated at him.

"What the hell was that about?" She exclaimed, glaring at Johnny as he turned down a road that Devi knew led to his street. He shrugged, not taking his eyes off the road as he responded.

"I don't wanna be late. Squee won't get _anything _from his parents - I wanna take him out someplace before they ruin today for the both of us." Devi raised an eyebrow, feeling herself tense as she spotted his still-shabby home further down the street.

"Did you even get him anything?" At this, Johnny grinned.

"Yup. You see, he's always getting kidnapped by people, and aliens and stuff, so I thought; what would be the best gift?" Devi raised an eyebrow at the 'aliens' part, once more doubting the man had any sanity left, but let him continue, watching him even more carefully as he pulled into his practically not-there driveway partly occupied by an old, but well-kept grey car. "I thought for a long time, but finally figured it out. I can't tell you though - I want it to be a secret." He grinned deeper, but it wasn't one of his crazy grins - he looked honestly excited. "Wait here!" He exclaimed, running into his shabby home and coming out after a while with a thin, rectangular package that looked about a foot and a half long. Devi immediately was concerned about what it contained - there were few things in the world Johnny would buy that were around that size. She followed him as he walked up to the side of the house that faced his own, watching as he placed the small brown package on the half-dead grass, and began climbing up the wall.  
She was half amazed at the dexterity he was showing - the wall was a simple one, with few to no holds for one to climb with. More proof of how long Johnny had been doing what he did. The rest of her was entirely confused. Why _on earth_ was he climbing up the wall? Didn't the door work a _little _bit better?

"Johnny, what are you doing? Just use the door!" Johnny ignored her, and quietly lifted the window that Devi noticed was blatantly unlocked. He must have done this many times, as she soon heard another voice, speaking evenly -if not nervously and tiredly- back at Johnny. Soon the voice turned from nervous to a worried yet happy anxiousness, and Johnny was once more climbing the wall, carefully dropping back down to the ground with a small something clutching tightly to his back. As the something that she recognized as a human boy let go, Devi stared. The 'Squee' that Johnny had told her about couldn't have been any more than seven years old!

"W-who is she?" Devi heard the boy ask as Johnny turned around, picking up the thin package. Devi put on a friendly smile, kneeling down so he could look her in the eyes more easily.

"I'm Devi." Squee gulped, looking between the two older people near him.

"Is Mr. Johnny gonna make you scream really loud like the other people?" Devi froze, and noticed that Johnny as well hadn't apparently expected this - he had grunted awkwardly, looking in a different direction while taking a few steps away from the pair. Still unable to figure out who would speak first out of their trio, Devi remained silent, keeping her eyes fixed on the upset-looking Johnny. He was gripping the odd little package harder, and looked as though somebody important to him had just smacked him across the face for no reason.  
Devi frowned a little, looking back down at the young boy who appeared as though he'd like nothing more than to be elsewhere. Finally finding her voice, she spoke, her grin returning just slightly.

"No... I don't think he will. I trust him enough to believe he won't." She noticed Johnny look up, and made sure to avoid his gaze. "Didn't you say you got him something, Johnny?" Johnny smiled again and walked forward, closer to the boy who looked both thrilled and terrified.

"I did!" He said, kneeling down and sitting on the grass. "It isn't much, but I've had it for as long as I can remember. Which," He added, with a soft laugh "isn't that long, really." He turned thoughtful as he handed the package over. "I think I made it myself, actually..." Devi turned her attention back to Squee, watching tensely as the boy, with equal caution, removed the brown paper wrapping and opened the box. Upon seeing what it contained, Devi sighed, the boy squeaking as his mind realized just what exactly the maniac had given him.  
It was a knife. A sleek, slender knife that appeared as though it had never once been used, but looked maintained as though he'd used it regularly. The blade was about a foot long, and curved gently upwards. It's handle looked as though it was some form of wood -oak, or pine perhaps- and had swirling, smokey patterns carved into it. The knife in it's entirety looked rather crudely made, but seemed sturdy enough to be used without fear of breakage.

"Its... you _made _this?" Devi asked, looking at him. She was impressed - the knife was proof of his previous ability, and that, at some point during his life, he must have practiced blacksmithing. From the corner of her eye, Devi could see the boy Johnny called Squee picking up the knife oh-so-carefully, examining it with wide, curious eyes.

"I think so." He said, nodding. "I'm _definitely _sure I didn't buy it, and nobody has ever _given _me knives..." He fell silent, and looked over at his 'friend'. "Do you like it, Squeegee? When you told me about those aliens, I knew that you needed protection. But the problem was that I won't always be there, so I decided that this was the best thing I could..." Johnny's voice trailed off, and the two looked at him in confusion.

"The best thing you could what?" Devi asked. But Johnny did not reply. He twitched, and swayed for a minute before collapsing onto the grass at Devi's feet. The boy squealed again, but did not drop the knife - he held it very carefully in his small hands. Devi picked Johnny up gently, heading over to her car. Placing him in the passengers seat and doing up the belt, she got into the drivers seat, aware that 'Squee' had followed - he was carrying the knife -in it's box- under one arm, and tightly clutching a puff of what looked like stuffing in his hands. "We're going to my house - I don't trust Johnny to have... quit his '_habit_' yet, and I'd feel a lot safer in a place where I don't have _knives _glaring at me from every other direction."

0o0o0o0

Before his head even hit the ground, Johnny found himself deep inside another hallucination - or were they memories? Either way, he hoped he remembered this one. How else would he be able to help Devi to help him remember himself? Everything would be very confusing if he could not remember any of the memories that were triggered.

The scene before his eyes was blurry - but familiar. Oh, well _obviously _it would be familiar. It _was _a memory after all. He refocused his attention on the still-blurry scene - he would have to stop mentally interrupting himself, it could potentially upset the memory and drive it back into the recesses of his mind.

Eventually, the images began to sharpen, the blended-together colors and shapes reforming into an image he knew well - it was the inside of his car. He was driving down the road, but something was off. The vehicle was too clean, too well cared for - and he had tons of boxes in all of his passenger seats, some in the trunk as well. He sensed that he was happy. Today was a good day. Johnny let his control slacken a little, willing himself further into the memory.

A flicker, and everything was clear.

It was Wednesday, on a sunny day in June. He had finally managed to sell a bunch of his paintings, and for a large sum of cash, too. Some sculptures had been sold as well, and now he was able to move out of his room in that crappy apartment building and buy a house. He even had one picked out - it was a small, four-room building that, he was told, hid a multi-level basement underneath it's shoddy appearance. He had learned, as well, that it was built from concrete and reinforced by a mixture of metal and wooden beams. It was a fixer-upper, to be sure, but it was cheap and located in what seemed like a relatively good neighborhood.  
He glanced down at the small box on his lap. It was something he'd been in the middle of; a project he'd started. It was a short blade - or rather, it was _going to be_ a short blade. Currently, it was a wooden cylinder, and a short shear of metal, accompanied by a visual sketch of the shape of the blade, and what he planned to have carved into the cylinder, which was to be the hilt.

Soon, he pulled up the the small building he'd picked out. He'd heard from the owner that the place was haunted, but honestly, Johnny didn't care. With the two voices he already had whispering inside his brain,a ghost would be nice company. Maybe he'd paint it something as a thank you gift for letting him live there. Unless it was a poltergeist. Then, he'd just paint all the things it did, and sell them to that strange company that had taken such an interest in his art.  
Pulling into the driveway, Johnny was surprised to see that the man he'd spoken with before was not there - neither was the man's car. In fact, he could see the keys dangling from a nail driven into the wall near the door, a note taped to them. Curious, he exited his car, walking up to the door and taking the keys down from where they hung. He carefully removed the note, unfolding it and reading it's curly, but obviously hurried handwriting.

'I cannot thank you enough for taking this place off my hands,  
nor can I hate myself enough for what I have just placed in  
your unknowing care.   
You will find, in the spare room, a wall 'painted' red. I have given  
it ten coats since we last spoke, so it should be quite some time  
before it bothers you. 

I should hope it never will_._'

"Well that was odd." He muttered to himself. "At least I don't have to pay for it." Johnny stuck the key into the lock, opening the door and heading back over to his car to unpack. He had paintings that needed to be finished. And that knife. He hoped he'd be able to finish it soon now that he had a house - he intended to sell it alongside a sculpture he planned on making.

_'Wake up Johnny...!'_

The world went blurry, Johnny's view of his car becoming melted together.

_'He isn't dead, is he?'_

Wait, he knew that voice... 'C'... Ca...Casil. Casil! Todd Casil, little Squeegee!

_'No, just unconscious_. _He must have passed out, but I can't figure out why he would. It _couldn't_ be the knife. A guy like Nny wouldn't faint at the sight of a blade.'_

The blurry images faded to black, and Johnny found himself snapped back into reality as he shrieked - somebody was pressing a _very _cold something to his belly. (1) Johnny's eyes snapped open, and he lashed his arms out, grabbing out the cold thing and tossing it across the room, panting heavily as he began to gaze about the room - he was not in Squee's yard, nor was he in his own home. Where was he?

"Johnny." He felt a hand grip his shoulder gently and without thinking, he lashed again, knocking the hand away and reaching for a knife he didn't have from the inside pockets of the jacket he wasn't wearing. "It's me, Devi!" He heard somebody yell, half scared. That stopped him, bringing his mind back to normal as he took several deep breaths, still in a position that indicated he was going to strike. His eyes took another turn around the room, and it finally sunk in - he was at Devi's house. It was Squee's birthday, he had passed out after seeing the knife, and watched a memory of himself back when he was still sane enough to know that killing was not something he'd aim to have as his job. Back when he still painted.

"Devi?" He muttered. He felt the hand come back, and he turned to face it's owner. She still looked scared from his outburst a few moments ago, but pleased to see him awake. He could see Squee near the television, watching cartoons with a bright smile on his face. "What happened?"

"You saw the knife, and passed out." Johnny cocked his head to one side.

"I lost consciousness at the sight of one of my own daggers?" He chuckled, grinning. "I'm definitely losing my touch." This made Devi scowl.

"I should hope so. No talent for killing means... Oh, I dunno... _no killing_." Her face turned from anger to one of curiosity, and she glanced at the blade in question, which now sat in a small portable-looking glass case, being held up as though it was an artifact on display. "Johnny... Did you ever actually look at that before giving it to Squee?" Johnny thought for a moment before shaking his head.

"No. But when I was unconscious, I remembered moving into house seven-seven-seven. I remembered that I had just sold a bunch of paintings to a company... I was gonna buy the house, but the owner-guy was already gone when I got there. The keys where hanging outside with a little note, but I didn't pay it any mind... I remember being happy, too..." He narrowed his eyes in thought. "I was finally gonna be able to finish that knife." He gestured at the thing now in the case. "I was gonna make a sculpture that it went with, and then sell them as a pair..." Devi grinned.

"Oh, that's a really good start, Nny!" She said, grinning at him. Johnny shook his head, frowning now.

"Maybe... but all it does is raise questions." He blinked, staring at the knife. Devi raised an eyebrow.

"Such as?" Johnny did not turn away from gazing at the knife as he responded.

"Who was the company that suddenly became interested in me, so soon before my decent into madness? Why did the man who previously owned house seven-seven-seven leave without waiting for me to pay for it?" He turned back to her, looking uncomfortable, and worried. "And why did the note he left mention the wall?" It was Devi's turn now to be confused.

"The wall?"

"Yes - I may have told you about it. There was a monster in one of the walls in my house that needed blood painted over it, or it would escape. I can only assume it eventually did, as I am no longer plagued by the internal demand from my head-voices to kill people merely to drain them of their blood - my thoughts -though still gruesome- are my own again."

"Wait, then why did you try to kill _me_, then? Choice, or-"

"I was forced to. My head voices - I told you about them, the Doughboys, you remember?" Devi nodded, then motioned for him to continue. "When they spoke to me, I would get weaker, and confused; more easily convinced I _needed _to do certain things. They convinced me that, eventually, you would leave, as all things tend to work out for me." He curled into a ball on the couch. "So I tried to keep you forever, in the only way I really can." Devi shook her head.

"We were already over this - you did it out of some twisted, insane sort of crazy kinda love for me." She sat down next to him. "But you just said, it wasn't completely in your control - I'm starting to get over it. Now" She added. "back to the knife thing."

"Right." Devi looked down, thinking as she continued.

"You said you wanted to make a sculpture to go with it, then sell them both. Obviously, _that_ didn't happen. So what -" But when she looked up, Johnny was no longer there - he was enraptured in a noiseless tickle fight with the boy known only to her as Squee. Both looked as though they were enjoying themselves, and as badly as she wanted to discuss Johnny's past with the man in question, she didn't want to tear him away from one of his rare happy moments. She could wait. She would _have _to. Dealing with Johnny in any way demanded understanding, confidence, and by far, _patience_.

* * *

(1) - My mum used to do this to me all the time when I was little; only, thankfully, I was always awake at the times she did. She'd take a can (normally that frozen juice stuff) from the freezer, then lift my shirt up and press the round metal ends to my stomach. It's pretty damn cold.

0o0o0o0

Okay, so neither Sickness nor Shmee were in this chapter. I'm not completely sure what'll happen next, but it could possibly involve Johnny and Devi exploring the parts of Nny's house that not even he went into - rooms that were locked, maybe containing old crap from before his whole insanity thing.


	5. A Good Night

**Disclaimer:** Johnny C (and all related) is property of the great comic artist; Jhonen Vasquez.

**Authors Notes:** And so comes chapter five - still amazed that I'm still writing this. It was supposed to be a oneshot, dammit; that's why the first chapter feels so wonky!

I throw in one of the unavoidable cliches of the JtHM fan-verse this chapter - whenever Squee is inexplicably gone for the whole day, his parents up and leave, as I couldn't figure out any other way to have Todd in the story significantly enough otherwise.

On another note, I got the 'I Feel Sick' comics today (being the 20th of august) so Devi will, hopefully, become more in-character as time goes on.

* * *

It was relatively late by the time Johnny had decided to take little Squeegee home - only to come back with the boy still in his arms, the child crying into Nny's shoulder. Though the maniac looked thoroughly uncomfortable, and very angry, he did nothing that indicated he wished the boy away from him - merely held him there as he rubbed Squee's back, pacing back and forth across Devi's living-room and looking like he wanted something very, _very_ dead by his hands. Devi could only have assumed that Squee's parents had not been there, but why that would've made both of the boys so emotional was beyond her.

"What happened?" She asked. Johnny, without looking at her, growled loudly in anger before he spoke.

"They left! Gone, vanished, kaput, made themselves scarce, _a abandonné leur propre fils_!" (1) Devi blinked, surprised at the sudden use of french - she had not known Johnny knew anything other than English, but judging by the fact he was pacing again and muttering threats to the couple in that very language -English-, he either hadn't realized he'd spoken in French, or knew too little to actually admit he spoke any of it.  
Just as Devi figured she'd have to ask another question to get more details, he turned to her again, obviously still angry. "I knew this would happen - they hate him, always have." This made the small boy cry all the louder, but Johnny ignored it, apparently fine with Squee's temporary attachment to Johnny - his face was buried in the skinny maniacs neck, arms wrapped tightly around him. "I arrived at Squeegee's house, and there was a '_for sale_' sign in the yard! The fuckers decided that since he was gone, they'd_ leave him alone to ROT_!" He paced in quick circles, face filled with rage. "If I knew where they went to, ohhhh... I'd punish them so long they'd forget what_ the sun_ was, and so harsh they'd believe me the devil himself!" Devi's eyes widened - Squee's parents had abandoned the boy?

"Why would they do that?" She asked, the inquiry being mostly rhetorical. Johnny, however, did not see it as such.

"I told you; his parents hated him!" He began taking deep breaths, apparently trying to calm himself. "Squeegee told me that his mother was always pretending he didn't exist, and his father was always mean to him. Two steps away from physical abuse, if I could guess." Johnny stopped pacing, his voice low as he began to realize that the little boy clutching him oh-so-tightly had fallen asleep. "Though I'd promised I would leave them alone... I'm not sure I can keep it now." He growled, sitting down on the couch and laying back, sighing in obvious fatigue. Devi, noticing this, walked over to him.

"Why not get some sleep? You look tired." She knew he would refuse - he hated sleep. He'd told her many times during their three months as actual friends that he felt sleep took away whatever self-certainty he had left. It made him confused as to whether or not the more recent events in his life had ever happened - made him doubt reality.

"No!" He exclaimed "I hate sleep - it's excess." Devi rolled her eyes.

"It's required for continued existence. Just go to sleep - please? I _know_ you don't like it, but you'll be worse off if you don't." Johnny raised an eyebrow as he looked at her.

"And how is that?" Devi glared at him, smirking. She'd researched this not long after their 'incident', having remembered his anti-sleep opinions, and been very curious about it.

"Well, sleep deprivation causes Psychosis, and 'higher levels of stress, anxiety and depression, and may cause the affected person to take unnecessary risks.' Aside from that, significant sleep deprivation causes the brain to automatically shut down for about 10 to 60 seconds; it's called 'Micro-sleeping. That means you fall asleep no matter what you're doing, and are unaware that you're doing it in the first place." She sat down next to him. "That you don't sleep is most likely your entire problem, not to mention that sleep deprivation has been known to affect memory as well - meaning if you start sleeping, your memory may come back faster than if you didn't." Johnny grumbled, annoyed with her show of logic. The trio sat silent for a few moments before the maniac spoke again.

"I'll sleep tomorrow. Not tonight - I'm too awake. Too awake to sleep, too much anger energy." He muttered, eyes dulled with calm. Devi smiled. That was an agreeable compromise.

"Fine. But what do you plan on doing this whole night?" He shrugged.

"Nothing, if Squeegee keeps sleeping on me." Shifting her legs, Devi flinched when something sharp poked into her ankle. "What's wrong?" Johnny asked, head tilted in mild interest and concern. She shook her head.

"Nothing, nothing." Devi glanced at her left boot for a minute - she'd forgotten about the knives she'd hidden. _Johnny's_ knives. Glancing at him, she wondered briefly about whether or not she trusted him with weaponry yet. Though technically the one he'd given Squee would be within his reach any time he was in her apartment, she felt that that one did not count. Johnny had given that blade to the kid, and had made it himself before he'd lost his memory; therefor he likely would not use it for anything involving a mess. But her eyes flicked back over to Johnny when she noticed the man wriggling, slowly sliding out from underneath the small boy bravely using the maniac as a pillow. Johnny grinned, standing up straight as he exhaled triumphantly, but the happiness was gone when he looked around, eyes falling onto the still-locked door that led to her studio. He walked over to it, and Devi watched as he ran a hand down the wooden door.

"What's through here?" He asked quietly.

"My studio - it's actually a master bedroom, but I use it as a studio to paint my art in." She told him.

"...Can I see it?" Devi exhaled softly. Did she want him in there? That was where Sickness was kept. Granted, her home was made in what was originally supposed to be a walk-in closet, so Johnny would likely not see her at all, but it unnerved her to have Johnny in such close proximity to a derivative of what, she supposed, had driven him to this full-on madness in the first place. "Please?" He added. Devi groaned. The manic man was gazing at her with a very unintentional puppy-dog look in his eyes - the look he often gained when he was at his sanest, which she had seen all-too-often when he talked with her in the bookstore.

"Fine. Just... don't touch anything." Devi said. She thought for a moment, mind back on Sickness for a few seconds before she spoke again. "And don't go into the closet, please." No matter what you hear, she thought. As she unlocked and opened the door, she could feel Johnny move just slightly closer to her in his attempts to see beyond her and into the room. So, when she move forward enough for the male to get in, she found him rushing into the room, standing beside her as he gazed about the room.

"Ohh..." He groaned softly, eyes moving quickly from painting to painting. "They're beautiful." Devi found herself blushing.

"You really think so?" Johnny, who had been walking around the room to get closer looks at all the pieces that were either on her walls or simply in view, looked back at her, nodding.

"Yes. A good most of these works have a brilliant sense of balance, and the colors blend very well. I mean," He said, turning back to look at some of the paintings "some of them do have the perspective a bit off... but you're very good!" Devi raised an eyebrow, smiling.

"And you said you couldn't paint." Johnny mimicked her look.

"Knowing how to _critique_ art and how to actually _create _it are two very different things, I'll have you know." Suddenly, he went silent, looking down at his feet. "...Devi?" She stared at him curiously.

"Yes?"

"During our date, you asked me something, and I never answered it. Though I think it was more rhetorical than anything, I think it deserves an answer." She narrowed her eyes, taking a half-step closer.

"And what was that?"

"You told me that the creative block I described as having, to you, sounded more like a creative re-routing. After that, you asked me where I thought it was being re-routed _to_." He withdrew a little, pulling his hands and arms close to his chest as Devi had seen him do multiple times whenever he got uncomfortable. "I think you've probably figured it out by now... I-I..." He stammered, pausing. Devi motioned for him to continue, very aware of the topic he was likely about to bring up. "I... killed people." Tensing a little, Devi forced herself to stay as calm as possible - the last thing Johnny needed was for the only person willing to help him out to run away at the mention of murder. Johnny took several breaths before continuing. "I've killed dozens... hundreds of people. But the way I did it... I didn't just... _plunge _the blade into a vital organ, and be done with it." He said, making the motions he was describing. "I'd play with them - stretch everything out. I'd carve them up, often in similar ways one would carve a pumpkin." He glanced up to her, and shrunk away a little when he noticed her uncomfortable grimace. She was avoiding looking at him, and he had a feeling she was trying not to bring up mental imagery of his many murders. "I'm sorry." He said, turning to look silently at some more of her works.

"It's alright." She shrugged, half-smiling at him. "I should've known we'd come onto this topic sooner or later. This is _you_, after all." When he didn't respond, she placed a hand on his shoulder, trying not to think of just how skinny her almost-friend was, and noticed how he tensed up at her touch. "Hey." She said softly, half-moving him to turn around to face her. "What do you say we get a brainfreezy - my treat? Squee won't be up for hours yet." The manic man grinned, suddenly ecstatic. He followed her out of her apartment, and Devi locked her door before allowing the man to lead her down the moon-lit streets. He was talking rather avidly about various junk foods (strangely enough) and his opinions on them, and Devi, finally feeling (almost) comfortable with his presence, listened to him, a smile on her face. This was gonna work out in the end - she could feel it.

* * *

(1) - Something along the lines of 'abandoned their own son' in french - I got the idea of Johnny knowing french from one of his Noodle Boy comics; one of them has Noodle Boy speaking (more or less) french to a squirrel. Johnny must know _some _french to have written that, huh? I intended to include more french throughout the rest of the chapter, but found no way to slip it in.

0o0o0o0

Sickness isn't in this chapter either. This chapter may, and probably will be shorter - I spent less time concentrating on length, and more time on getting a new chapter out, as the ideas for this one were running thin. I intend to get her into next chapter, where I will hopefully write the following: Devi getting Johnny to paint, after explaining to him that artwork does not necessarily need to be of a clear, definite object. She will leave him to his own artistic devices, but when she come back, she will look into the room, delighted to see him working feverishly on an image of a lone figure staring out a window at the starry sky beyond, but will become worried when he starts talking to himself, and eventually becomes angry. She will realize that Sickness is talking to him, trying to antagonize him into his old ways, and Devi will begin yelling at her.  
I hope to end it with Johnny having a swing from anger into depression, and Devi having to convince him not to kill himself.

Not quite sure how I'm gonna get Squee in there, but I hope you stay tuned for next chapter!


	6. Lonely No More

**Disclaimer:** Johnny C (and all related) is property of the great comic artist; Jhonen Vasquez.

**Authors Notes:** No lengthy authors note for you, mostly because I'm sure none of you read them, and because I can think of nothing to say. Chapter six will begin... NOW.

* * *

When Devi woke up, she was distinctly aware of having somebodies head on her legs - and she knew it wasn't young Squee. She groaned quietly, sore due to how she'd fallen asleep sitting upright on her couch, and gazed down at the current occupant of her lap. Johnny, whom had distinctly told her that he was too full of energy to sleep, had succumbed to that very thing - sleep. His face was relaxed, mouth upturned into a rare smile as he experienced whatever dream his subconscious mind had chosen for him, but she had to hold back an 'awww' as she noticed his mildly knotted-together arms - clutched close to his chest was a still-sleeping Squee. The boy was shivering a tiny bit, but had a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth as he buried a good portion of his head and face into the skinny maniacs torso.

"Softie." She muttered. Vaguely, she hoped Tenna wouldn't call, or show up. Devi hadn't contacted the woman in some time, so a visit from her would be expected within the ensuing days. It wasn't that she didn't like her, oh no. It was more that with Johnny the way he was currently, it would be better if somebody like Tenna stayed away till the maniac man was more comfortable with society - and because Tenna was a rather in-your-face, touchy-feely kind of friend. Somebody she figured Johnny would be very uncomfortable around.

"I wanna make bacon and waffles for you and Squeegee today..." Came the muttered, sleep-hoarse voice of Johnny. Amused, Devi grinned.

"Good morning to you too, sleepyhead." She stood up when Johnny shifted, sitting upright so they both could move around. "Hey, isn't today Monday?" Devi asked her possibly psychotic friend. Johnny narrowed his eyes in thought before nodding.

"Yes, it is." He shook the little boy slightly, smiling when he awoke. "Good morning Squeegee!" The child looked surprised and confused for a moment before realization flashed across his face, and his eyes dulled in sadness. Johnny frowned, slouching a little as he, too, remembered the previous days events. "Don't worry." He said, ruffling Squee's hair. "If you want to, I can track your parents down and kill them. Or," He mused "merely capture them and torture them into being better parents." He smiled at the boy. "The threat of death always brings out a persons zest for life - it's almost like a medication." But before the poor boy could make any kind of response, Devi cut in.

"Uhm, Johnny? This kid has school in an hour, and he needs things that we don't have." Johnny smiled again as he looked over at her.

"That's okay - I'll just take him to his house, get his things, and drive him to school." He turned to the boy, taking his hand as he led him to the door. "I do this most of the time anyway. It's not like his _parents_ ever cared." Following the two males (that now apparently lived with her) to the door, she gently grabbed Johnny's shoulder, causing him to turn and look at her. "What?" He asked, a curious tone in his voice.

"Don't kill anybody - _please_." He narrowed his eyes, looking at the floor, but when he looked at her again, he did not make any movement or motion indicating compliance. Merely walked out the door, child in hand.

It did not surprise Devi to hear a certain creatures voice once Johnny had left the room. To be honest, she had been surprised that a full day had gone by without the demon creature speaking.

'_He seems nice._' Sickness giggled. Devi stared at the door to her art room. Speak of the devil.

"Shut up." She sat down on her couch, not taking her eyes off the door - a part of her was expecting the little creature to pounce out into the living-room and attack her again. "This is going well, and you're being very good with how you've been totally quiet the past while." She felt the thing shudder mentally.

'_But it's getting so interesting out there - I don't want to keep myself secret, mother._' Devi rolled her eyes, turning to face the door.

"And quit it with the 'mother' thing. It's creepy - I'm not your mother." Sickness laughed.

'_Aren't you? I may have come from elsewhere -pre-existing- but it was you that gave me form. You gave me my physical body. Therefor, you are Mother._'

"What happened to the 'please don't hurt me' voice you used before?"

'_I still don't want to disappear into the ether - but I will admit, I don't want to be entirely forgotten either. I like our talks._' Devi eyed her purse/bag, which still contained the twin purple screws that once were the creatures eyes.

"I could do without a self-aware voice in my head." Devi stood, heading towards her kitchen. "Sickness?"

'_Yes?_' A container of yogurt was removed from the fridge.

"Shut up." She took a spoon from the utensil drawer, and headed out to her movie collection - she wanted to watch something.

0o0o0o0

Johnny was oddly happy to get outside, and knew part of the reason why. He hadn't killed anybody in weeks, so the more degenerated part of his mind was itching to get somebody on the business end of any one of his weapons, regardless of the fact he had none on him. Of course, that was ignoring the fact he could make _anything _into a weapon, if he felt like it.

"Mr. Johnny?" Squee said nervously from the passengers side of the car.

"Hmm?" Johnny glanced over for a second before returning his eyes to the road. The last thing he wanted was to get Squeegee into an accident.

"T-thanks for letting me stay with you and Miss Devi. And for driving me to school - usually daddy made me walk." Johnny frowned. From his house to the kids school was at least a half an hour away.

"I would've driven you to school if you wanted a drive - you just had to ask."

"But... you were kinda... s-scary." Johnny grunted, uncomfortable.

"I... was?" He felt kind of hurt, now. He'd scared the boy? Scared him into not asking for help getting to school?

"There were all kinds of loud, scary n-noises that came from your basement, and... sometimes you l-laughed like the crazy hobos in the city." Johnny felt bad. He hadn't realized that the sounds of torture would drive the kid away from him. But, he reasoned, it should have been obvious - Squee was still completely sane. Of _course _he would get intimidated by those kinds of noises. "It's just up here - turn d-down this road." Johnny swerved the grey vehicle down the road, smiling a little when he saw the school up ahead - he'd been down here before.

"You go to school _here_?" The boy nodded.

"Y-yeah..." Slowly, Johnny drew the car to a stop, staring out the window at the school beyond. It was dirty - obviously unmaintained. He had a sneaking suspicion that the inside was in a similar state.

"Well, here you go." Squee undid his seat-belt, opening the door and removing himself from Johnny's car strangely quickly. "Have a good day Squeegee!" The maniac waved his hand, smiling gleefully. With fear in his eyes, Squee waved back - sure, the man had given him a home, but there was something about him that still terrified him. He ran to the door that led into his school, and hurriedly went inside - the further away Squee was from the maniac, the safer he felt.

Back outside, Johnny watched with a grin on his face as the kid ran into the school. There was one person occupied for the day - now what about himself, or Devi? Turning the car around, he shot off in the direction of the girls home, only barely managing to convince himself to avoid his own home. He wanted Devi to trust him again; bringing bodies or knives into her apartment would not help him.

0o0o0o0

Devi had managed to half-finish the relatively small tub of yogurt by the time her homicidal room-mate returned. Surprisingly, with nothing he hadn't left with.

"You didn't go to your place?" Johnny shook his head, hanging the keys to his car on a peg on the wall, near the door.

"Nope." Devi raised an eyebrow.

"Really?" Still smiling, Johnny nodded.

"Yup." The artist smiled back at him as he plopped down on the couch next to him.

"Good for you. It must be weird for you living without all those weapons." Johnny shifted his position a little.

"Kinda. It's strange not being able to attack anything... Hey..." He narrowed his eyes in curiosity, staring at the television. "What are you watching?" Another spoonful of yogurt made its way into Devi's mouth before she responded.

"Alien vs Predator. The team has just found the chamber filled with Xenomorph eggs."(1) Johnny grinned.

"Ooh, this is the best part." But despite the distraction of the gore of the scene, Johnny found his gaze trailing over to Devi's art room. Noticing this, Devi narrowed her eyes - was Johnny just distracted by the memories of the art he'd seen in there, or was Sickness playing with his mind?

"Is there something you want in there?" She asked carefully. Johnny balled his hands up into fists, pulling them up to his chest.

"Can... can I.. borrow a canvas?" Devi smiled, but raised an eyebrow.

"You want to paint?" Johnny shrugged.

"I think so. I haven't held a paintbrush in years, not counting when I fed the wall, or back in Mr. Walter's art store." He looked at his friend. "Feeding the wall and drawing some _really _bad comics was the closest thing to painting I've done in.. forever!" He exclaimed, gesturing wildly. Devi chuckled.

"Sure. Do you want me to show you where everything is?" Johnny nodded, and Devi led the man into her art room, making sure to lock the door to where Sickness was kept before setting up a canvas and some paint. She watched as he picked up the brush, glancing back and forth between the paint, the brush and the canvas with a look on his face that said he was not completely sure of something. "All you have to remember is that your subject doesn't have to be of a defined object - it could be random splatters, lines, _anything_." She turned to head back to her movie, then paused, looking back at him. "Just paint whatever comes to mind. It doesn't even have to be good - that's what patience and practice is for." Johnny nodded, grinning at her before staring the blank canvas down, obviously trying to figure out what he'd put onto it.

Hours would pass, and at some point Devi would become distracted by her friend, Tenna. But when she came back, she would not have expected to hear the joyful cries of Johnny as he ran the brush across the canvas, obviously enthralled with whatever had jumped into his brain.

'_Mother..._' Came the whispered voice of Sickness. Devi rolled her eyes, glancing over at Johnny to see whether or not he heard the creature as well. Judging by how deeply concentrated he appeared, he did not.

"What?" She whispered back.

'_Listening to this guy is boring..._' Great. _Now_ the thing was complaining about boredom. Right as the mentally weakened man that was Johnny was regaining some semblance of his past self.

"Go torture some other mind, huh? Things are going great; the last thing I need is you complaining about boredom." She felt it shift, away and into the back part of her mind where she couldn't feel it. Good.

It didn't occur to her just what kind of permission she'd given the creature until after Johnny began talking to himself.

"No." She heard him say. Confused she turned in his direction - had the man heard her? Devi opened her mouth to speak to him, but found herself cut off when he continued. "No, she'd tell me." Devi raised an eyebrow. Was he talking with one of the 'head-voices' he'd mentioned earlier? "Of course I do! She's the only one who-" But Johnny cut himself off, eyes narrowing as something apparently spoke to him. "But I-" His mouth, previously upturned into a smile, fell. "He didn't have-" Devi crept closer, becoming increasingly worried. She passed her thoughts over the two knives in her left boot, reminding herself of their closeness to her in case she needed them. Johnny's face turned sad. "She wouldn't do that..." The paintbrush fell to the floor, flecks of bright blue paint spattering across the already messy floor. "No, she wouldn't." He trembled as the something spoke again. Of course, she couldn't tell if something actually was speaking - it was something about his posture, a glint in his eyes. "How would you know?" He asked it, his watery eyes glazed over. A few minutes passed, and Johnny spoke again. "I should have known... I should have _KNOWN_!" Then the tears started to fall, and when Johnny reached for her painting knife, bringing it not out to attack her, but up to his own throat, Devi realized what had happened - she'd told Sickness to torture somebody elses mind. So Sickness had picked Johnny. And now, he was going to kill himself. "Well, no more of that!" He yelled out, gripping the blade hard. "I'm going _over_ the stars, for good this time!" And Devi rushed in.

"Stop it!" Devi ran at him, unafraid this time of the weapon in his grip. "Calm down!" She exclaimed. Johnny yelled out in anguish, trying to push her away while simultaneously cutting his throat, which wasn't quite working.

"No, I won't have any more!" Devi managed to grasp the painting tool, ripping it from his oddly weak grip and throwing it across the room, flinching a little when she heard the sound of things falling. She worry about that later. Right now, she had a suicide attempt that needed foiling.

"Don't listen to her, she's lying!" Johnny's thrashing did not subside. "Whatever she told you, it's not true! I'm _here_, Nny, I'm here and not leaving again!" She felt the maniac's attempts to escape her grip weaken, so she pulled him closer. "You scared me back then, but I didn't know what you meant - but I know now what you must've gone through to get where you are now. Sickness is lying Johnny." the manic depressive man's attempts at escaping her grip fell, and Devi pulled him into a tight hug, aware of how he hated touch - but this was exactly what he needed, regardless of that.

"Please don't run again." She heard him whisper out.

"I won't - I swear I won't this time." She would still be comforting the male by the time Squee came back.

* * *

(1) - Real movie - real scene.

0o0o0o0

I had half a mind to leave the depression/suicide attempt for next chapter, but felt I wouldn't be able to connect Squee's coming home well at all. So it stayed here, and you guys got a doubly long chapter.


	7. Mental Therapy

**Disclaimer:** Johnny C (and all related) is property of the great comic artist; Jhonen Vasquez.

**Authors Notes:** So this chapter was, unlike the others, not planned beforehand at all. I just wrote, planning out what would happen only when I got stuck.

* * *

Johnny had fallen asleep not too long before the child called 'Squee' came back. It was a sorry sight to behold; a sleeping Johnny, face still stained with tears, leaning into Devi as she rubbed his back, sighing at what had happened earlier. It had been stupid of her not to tell him that she did indeed have a voice in her head. Granted, she was damn near certain she wouldn't fall prey to it this time, but had also not counted on it to be able to communicate with other people and create that amount of torment within a person. Thankfully, the child had not asked any questions, merely looked worriedly at the two. Devi had told him Johnny had been in an accident, and Squee had gone to Devi's room to work on his homework, obviously aware of the duo's need to be alone.

"I'm so sorry." She muttered to the sleeping maniac. "I should've known she'd do that." As he was asleep, the maniac did not respond, but tugged at Devi's heart with the soft sobs he was uttering. She needed to find a permanent fix for Sickness, or the thing would just wreak havoc on Johnny's mind all over again.  
Glancing back over at her art room, she noticed that the canvas Johnny had been using was still up - and judging by the amount of paint on the area around it, he'd done some painting. "You mind me seeing what you thought up, Nny?" She asked the male, who's sobs had diminished into quiet whimpers. A frown crossed her face again. "I won't be long." Carefully, she eased away from him, lowering him down onto the couch. That completed, she walked quietly over to the room, making sure to be as quiet as possible - despite the mans hatred for sleep, he really needed it. He'd even admitted it.

Entering the room, she noted with some dulled amusement that paint had been splattered everywhere. All where darker colors, but it was interesting to see the places Johnny had managed to get paint. It almost looked as though he'd started throwing the paintbrush around the room at some point. Which, she thought, didn't seem too out of character for him.  
Then, she spotted it - the now dark-shaded canvas that was covered over in a sketchy painting. The style was messy, but organized; like that of a highly experienced artist that hadn't painted in years. She moved closer and took in a soft breath, in awe of what she saw on the previously white canvas.

The first thing that caught her eye was the big, pearl-white moon that took up a good portion of the canvas. It was night in the scene - in fact, only a tiny bit of the image was land. All the rest was the starry night sky. Down in the corner of the image, standing on the spit of land while reaching out to the moon as best he could was a demonic-looking creature she figured stood for Johnny himself. Had he done an image of himself, reaching out to the moon; the thing he held most dear? Hold on... Devi narrowed her eyes, staring into the acrylic moon. Something was painted onto it, in such colors that it blended in rather well. She made out wings, a flowing white gown... Devi gasped, stumbling back a step as she realized what it was.  
It was _her_. He had painted her into the moon. She was in a position that implied sitting, but in such a way that everything on her person was inside of the moon. And she was watching him, her staring eyes filled with sadness.  
"Oh, Johnny..." She turned, gazing out at the now-shivering maniac. Was he trying to imply something?

Devi walked back over to Johnny, lifting him up oh-so-gently and sitting back down on the couch, lowering Johnny down again and letting his head lay on her lap. She leaned into the couch, absent-mindedly playing with his hair, smiling a little when he calmed down some. A few minutes ago, he had been shivering, and whimpering in his sleep just slightly. Despite his dislike of physical contact, hers seemed to calm him down. At least, when he was unconscious.

Then, a series of knocks came from her door, and before she could move to get up, it was thrown open, revealing Tenna. She had a bright grin on her face, and made to say something until she saw Devi and Johnny on the couch. Her grin deepened just slightly.

"Did I interrupt something?" She asked amusedly. Devi sighed, looking down at Johnny and moving one of his longer locks of hair out of his eyes. Tenna frowned, sensing the negative energy. "What's wrong Dev?" She asked, in a serious tone. Devi looked up, surprised. "Hey" Tenna continued "I _just _got you to start leaving your house - the last thing I want is you being depressed. You were hard _enough _to hang out with as an angry-ass paranoid shut-in." Devi turned her gaze back down to Johnny.

"_He's_ the depressed one, not me." Tenna followed Devi's gaze, looking, as well, down at Johnny.

"And '_he_' is?"

"The only guy you _didn't_ introduce me to." Tenna grinned again.

"Ooohhh, so _this _is the infamous Johnny-stalker that tried to kill you? He's skinnier than I imagined. Cute, though." Devi snorted, half-grinning."So; depressed? What happened?" Devi shrugged.

"He wanted to paint, so I let him. Then while he was busy painting, I visited you." Tenna nodded, remembering that. "After I got back, I sort of just sat around. Johnny was still painting, and seemed pretty happy about it, so I didn't want to interrupt him. But then... you know that possessed dolly painting?" Tenna nodded.

"The one you said was talking to you, and that you confirmed you trapped in it's canvas?" Devi nodded.

"It started talking to me, and I told it to bother somebody else. So it started talking to Johnny." Tenna waved her hands for Devi to stop.

"Hold on - that thing can talk to other people, too?" The purple-haired girl shrugged.

"Apparently. Anyway, it started talking to him, and then he tried to _kill _himself with my _painting knife_ - tried to cut his throat open."

"I imagine then, that by the lack of blood in here, he was unsuccessful?" Devi nodded.

"Thankfully." There was a silence that stretched on for a few moments before it was cut by a short, high-pitched squeak. Devi groaned. "Tenna, I was hoping we could at least have _one _serious conversation without that thing." Tenna frowned.

"Hey, Spooky wanted to see him!" Devi rolled her eyes.

"And why would Spooky want to see Johnny?" Tenna shrugged.

"I dunno, he just said-" The sentence went unfinished as Johnny jerked, sitting bolt upright with his eyes wide open. He was panting, and seemed terrified.

"Johnny, are you okay?" Devi asked, amused at how Tenna had pulled away when the man oh-so-suddenly awoke. Johnny ignored her, curling up and resting his forehead on his knees, hugging his legs and breathing slowly. "Johnny?"

"I'm okay..." He muttered, still not showing either girl his face. Tenna moved closer again, sitting down on the table and staring at Johnny for a moment before pulling the little squeaky-doll called 'Spooky' up to her ear.

"...Uh huh... Really? Okay... Alright... Okay, I'll tell him." Devi rolled her eyes at the one-sided conversation. "Hey... Johnny...?" The black girl leaned closer to him, moving carefully, and quietly. "Spooky... Spooky wanted you to know that 'just because it's gone doesn't mean it's effects on you are.' He said that Devi's your best bet for recovering from it." Johnny looked up at her slowly, appearing shocked. Tenna shrugged, leaning back. "Spooky talks weird sometimes." Johnny eyed the small thing suspiciously, and Tenna smiled, holding the squeaky-toy out to him. "Here - talk to Spooky! He _always _makes me feel better." Devi looked at her friend pleadingly.

"Tenna, please don't. I don't want you to be acting like this right now." But Johnny once again ignored his maybe-friend, carefully reaching out and taking the little skeleton doll. He turned it over in his hands, examining it carefully before resting his chin on his knees, once more making himself small. He stared at the doll suspiciously though, as though he expected it to jump up and start screaming at him. Silence fell over the room, and when Johnny flinched at nothing, Devi moved a little closer. "Johnny? What's wrong?" The man opened his mouth to speak when a small voice interrupted.

"Um... Miss Devi? C-could you help me with my math homework?" Todd said. Tenna squealed.

"Ohh, who's this little cutie?" She exclaimed. The girl strode over to Todd, grinning kindly. "What's your name?"

"T-todd Casil." He wrung his hands, obviously nervous.

"Well lets see what can be done with that math work." As she walked quickly into Devi's bedroom, she was followed by a loud crash, inciting Devi to run after the girl with little Todd following quickly behind and subsequently leaving Johnny alone.

"...Hello." He muttered to the thing, hoping it would not respond. He'd had more than enough of head-voices to last him the rest of his life, and if he had to take a power-drill to his temple to get rid of them forever, by God -or Satan- he'd do it. "That Tenna girl seems to think you'll make me all better. I think she's just too happy."

'_I wouldn't say_ that_._' Johnny froze, debating on throwing the little thing across the room, but deciding against it. '_There's no such thing as _too_ happy. Besides, Ten knows more than well when to be serious and when not to be._' Johnny glared at the doll.

"Who the hell are you? You're not my voice, or one of my older ones. You aren't even _trying _to imitate my voice like that last one did. If you're trying to delude me into becoming your slave as well I-" But the doll-voice cut him off, laughing.

'_No, dear child, I'm not like them. _Nothing_ like them. In fact, I'm quite the opposite. Where _They _took things from you that were beneficial, I take the negative things, things that detract from the human species._' It paused for a moment. '_Much like little Todd's friend, Shmee. Though, he's actually a little darker than normal. Most are actually rather pleasant._' Johnny growled.

"Shut up now, and I promise not to gut you." The thing laughed again, then spoke.

'_It wouldn't matter anyway. All you'd do is upset Tenna-bun._ (1)_ You can't silence us through the destruction of our shells, it doesn't work that way. But regardless, you shouldn't get so high-strung. I'm a friend._'

"That's what the dough-boys kept saying. Always, always, always, again and again. Kept _insisting _they were my friends." He narrowed his eyes, tightening his grip on the little squeak-toy. "_Liars._" He hissed out, eyes flicking for a moment to the door to Devi's room. The two girls were talking about something, but he couldn't hear them. Hopefully that meant _they _couldn't hear _him_, either.

'_If you don't trust me, at least hear me out. There are many different versions of what you call 'Sickness'. _Too _many, in my opinion._' Johnny blinked, staying silent in a hint that he was listening. '_But I'll just 'basic' it for you. There are those that take _good_ things away, and those that take _bad _things away. There's an offshot group that _give _things, but they're not in our jurisdiction._' (2) It paused for a moment, then continued. '_The good-takers are creatures like your wall-monster, or Devi's doll painting, which you had the unfortunate opportunity of meeting. The bad-takers are the immediate opposite - we feed on the negative: Sadness, anger, depression, jealousy, fear, the list goes on. Unfortunately though, we're quite a bit less common then the Sickness are_. _In terms of names, however,_ _I guess you could call us Antidote, if you wanna keep up the whole illness theme._'

"This seems very well organized for something so... chaotic." Johnny growled to it.

'_Oh, believe me, I'd love it if we were organized. It would make things so much easier. It was hard enough for us, finding a source to feed energy to your 'Nailbunny'. Didn't help that your Sickness kept stealing from it, though._' Johnny's eyes widened.

"You knew Nailbunny?"

'_Very well. He would've been one of the best Antidote we ever had, were it not for the Powers-That-Be butting in._' Johnny narrowed his eyes, confused.

"The powers that be?"

'_The thing that controls the 'Sickness', and, to an extent, us 'Antidote'. I'm sorry, Johnny_, _but that Reverend MEAT fellow is right, even for us. Even Sickness and Antidote are slaves. Everybody belongs to a higher power. Even now, I'm pretty sure I'm breaking rules just talking out of line like this._' Johnny felt a mild shudder in his head that he knew came from the little doll in his hands. '_I can't keep this up for very much longer. It's only my first offense, but I'm getting drained of energy to make me stop talking to you._'

"Wait, just one more question!" He felt the voice pause in it's attempt to leave.

'_Yes?_'

"MEAT, is he one of yours, or one of the Sickness?" The doll-voice paused as it thought.

'_Neither. If I remember right, the good Reverend is a rogue, a neutral; a grey-area deviation. He takes nothing, and gives nothing. They set their own goals and siphon energy from the world around them; anything so long as it isn't their host or another human. It's likely that he is merely feeding off the lingering energy of your 'wall monster'. If I could guess, I would say that he's completely harmless. Good _and _bad news is that they often act in place of Sickness and Antidote - meaning as long as he can find a source of energy that's big enough to keep him alive, he'll ward off any more Sickness that'll come your way, but antagonize you in the same way as they would, save all the soul-stealing._' Another shudder was felt from the voice, and it began to grow quieter. '_I have to leave, I'm sorry. I won't be able to help you out like this again. I know you don't trust me, but at least believe me._' And just as he felt to thing slip out of his head, leaving Johnny to his own thoughts, Tenna burst in, grinning ear to ear.

"See, I _knew _Spooky would be able to help you!" Devi walked out soon after, head in her palm. "Always trust the Spooky!"

"Tenna, just... just be quiet now." She sounded flustered, but the grin on her face said whatever had happened in the room had amused her. She turned to the maniac. "Hey, Johnny. Feeling better?" Johnny nodded slightly.

"A little. The thing that talked to me... Not this one, but the one earlier." He handed the now-silent squeaky doll over to it's rightful owner. "It was _your_ sickness, wasn't it? The voice in your head too real to be made up?" Devi stiffened, and with a bit of concern on her face, Tenna glanced at her. A few minutes of being stared at, and Devi nodded.

"She started talking to me just after I got the job at NERVE publishing. I -" But she cut herself off as Johnny gripped his head, tumbling to the floor while groaning loudly in obvious pain. "Johnny?" The maniac did not respond, and at the noise, Squee -who's name was actually Todd, as he explained not long ago- ran out into the living room, 'SQUEE'-ing at the sight of the man writhing on the floor in pain.

"What's wrong with him?" The little boy was clutching his bear tightly, and Devi could swear she heard soft whisperings coming from it.

"I don't know - I-I mentioned NERVE and he collapsed." Eventually, Johnny quieted down, limp, but still whimpering as though he'd been kicked. Exchanging a worried look, Devi and Tenna picked him up, moving him from the living room to Devi's bed.

"You think he's got a connection with them, Dev?" Tenna asked seriously, staring at the unconscious male. Devi let out a breath, sitting down and leaning against a wall.

"He did mention a company that took a lot of interest in his art not too long before he started going nuts." She sighed. "I'm starting to worry about him, Tenna. He's not a normal guy, not even when I didn't know he was like this. If NERVE _is_ the thing that keeps pushing me and him together in such a violent way..." Devi trailed off, unsure of what to say. What if it was true? If she and him where connected by NERVE, did that mean the 'sickness', as Johnny called it, was connected to NERVE as well? Could it have been possible that NERVE was behind everything?

* * *

(1) - I figured that Spooky (were he a being similar to Shmee, the whole 'I eat negative feelings, like fear' thing) would probably have a nickname for Tenna - I was playing on the pronunciation for 'Cinnabon', a cinnamon roll shop thing down here where I live.

(2) - This is a subtle reference to a manga/Graphic novel I found once that described Muses, things that give people inspiration, as physical/almost-physical beings. If it helps any, I believe the main character's Muse's name was IRA. The manga-in-question was actually an entry in this manga contest thing.

0o0o0o0

I just realized I'm starting to sound a whole lot like another fanfic I read about these two, where the two found out Johnny worked for NERVE as well, and that NERVE was behind the Sickness. I'm not trying to plot steal, I swear. It's just such a good idea that it's hard to avoid writing something similar. I'm gonna try to stay away from that specific idea, and make this one completely my own, but it's gonna be a close shave. I'm starting to lose sight of where I wanted this story to go, originally. I hope none of you mind too much though...


	8. Storytime! or Not My Pet

**Disclaimer:** Johnny C (and all related) is property of the great comic artist; Jhonen Vasquez.

**Authors Notes:** I know last chapter was... messy, to say the least. I'd just finished reading a ton of other stories, so my normal order for this story was pretty much nonexistent. I'm pretty sure I've gotten the story more or less in order again, so hopefully that won't happen again. That may or may not be a common occurrence in my writing; me going on tangents.

* * *

While Devi was contemplating conspiracy theories for the company that had aided in the almost-destruction of the creative centers of her brain, Johnny was being near to tortured with a rapid-fire cut of memories. Images and sounds flew through his mind too quick for him to accurately decipher what they meant.

'_Thank you so much, sir!_' A hand being shaken, two people talking.

'_Your style is amazing, Mr. Covaks - We'd love to have you work with us._' A woman smiles while looking at something on the papers on her desk.

'_I can't get anything out lately... I'm sorry._' Himself, frowning.

'_Well, we can't help with your artists block, Johnathan, but don't worry - Mr Nevers is very lenient._' The woman again.

'_How does this look?_' A canvas covered in a splatter of tendrils, mouths and teeth - a demon, it appears.

'_You keep drawing this particular creature, Mr Covaks... Why, exactly?_' The woman looks curious.

'_I'm _trying_ to draw for the comic, really... but I keep having nightmares about this... thing..._' He's looking at his lap, which is covered in papers filled with sketches, all of which are of the tendril demon. All the sketches are in various states of completion.

The memories blurred into illegibility, and he was assaulted by their sounds and before finding himself sitting bolt upright on Devi's bed, panting and sweating and, for some reason, shirtless. On his lap was a damp, chilly facecloth, having evidently been on his forehead before he'd woken up. Still panting, Johnny looked toward the doorway, curious. He could hear Devi speaking, but to who? Not Squeegee?

"...just had a bit of a breakdown, and he's been unconscious since, so I'd really appreciate that you stay quiet, Tess." Tess? Who was Tess? He recognized the name, but he'd heard lots of names - most people he'd taken down into his basement spat out _somebodies _name before dying, or being killed.

"You have an unconscious art scene _myth _in your bedroom, and want me to keep quiet? That's harder then it sounds, Devi." Carefully sliding off the bed he figured was Devi's, he crept closer to the door, aware and very thankful of the fact he was still wearing pants.

"Still - he's a bit of an insomniac and has a really bad memory problem because of that. Sleep is just what he needs to get better." His hand gripped the doorknob, and just as he was about to reconsider interrupting the two girls, his stomach demanded food, and he immediately left the room in search of something edible - completely forgetting his attempts at being sneaky."But... it... apparently doesn't matter anymore." Devi sighed, staring at Johnny as he dug around in her fridge. She turned back to the girl she'd been talking with, only to become worried; Tess was staring at the shirtless Johnny. And Devi could see in the girls eyes that she was staring in horror. "What is it? If it's because he's skinny, I think it's his metabolism, or because he doesn't eat well." Tess continued to stare in horror, then spoke quietly.

"He died...!" Devi narrowed her eyes in confusion.

"What?" Tess continued staring at Johnny as he shifted from searching Devi's Fridge to searching her pantry.

"That's the guy! The guy that kidnapped me! He tortured Dillon!" Johnny turned to look at Tess in surprise, and grinned as he remembered who she was.

"You! _Now _I know you! You where at the Kafka movie! Your sorry excuse for a boyfriend ruined it for me, so I had to teach him how not be rude."

"But you were _shot_!" Tess was all but screaming now. "Through the _head_! Between the _eyes_!" Devi snapped her head over to look at Johnny. What did Tess mean, Johnny had been shot through the head? Johnny nodded his head slightly as he remembered the incident. "Nobody lives through that!"

"I did die, you know. Went to Heaven, then got sent to Hell for blowing up peoples heads. But Mr. Satan said he didn't want me either, so... here I am." Devi sighed, holding her head in her hands. She had no idea if Johnny and Tess were telling the truth, or if both were merely recalling some kind of double hallucination.

"Are either of you telling the truth, or am I the only sane person I know?" Johnny snatched a bunch of small tea buns from her pantry, munching on one as he walked to sit cross-legged on the floor near Devi.

"Well, if what you said about Sickness being your head-voice is true, then most likely not." He grinned a little, then turned on Tess. "How exactly did you get out? I had you tied up - you couldn't have broken out by yourself?"

"I didn't" Tess said, eying the maniac warily. "Some guy calling himself Krik busted through the floor and freed me, but not before your pet demon got Dillon." Johnny's face turned confused, then angry.

"_Pet_? I'll have you know that that thing was anything _BUT _a pet! It was the master, and I was the slave - slave to killing everyone and stealing their blood, feeding it with that repulsive liquid while thinking I was keeping it back. Have you ever been fitted with the compulsive drive and _need _to kill, or else believe you're risking you own life and very free will to not? I have. I can't even tell you my own birthday, or hell, when I met Squeegee. The damned creature ate away so much of me I still feel the unnatural desire to kill. I only don't because I'm trying so hard to get Devi's forgiveness. It's very difficult." He stared at her with hate-filled, narrowed eyes. "Tell me, have you ever been addicted to something?" He hissed at her.

"N-no."

"Well, everything can become an addiction - even things like music, or drawing. My addiction was killing. It still is, for that matter. Think of somebody who became addicted to smoking at age twelve, then lived in that manner for many years. This person is now in his sixties, and realizes he must stop, or die. The nicotine, however, has been a staple of his existence for so long though, that to stop feels like tearing off his limbs. He can't do it. And because of his addiction, he has made no friends to speak of, therefor has nobody he can go to for help in quitting." He stood, looming over the poor terrified girl. "But then, he finds somebody he wishes to give his whole heart to - his entire being in fact."

"I'm sorry-" Johnny grabbed her shirt tightly, scowling at her. Devi stood quickly, ready to intervene should the man try anything. She would've stopped him then and there, but Johnny was into one of his rants, and it was dangerous sometimes, to stop him talking then.

"I'm not done yet." He took in a breath, then continued. " The man meets this girl, talks with her. He finds out they are very much similar. But then just as things take what could be the best turn in this mans life, he does something stupid. So stupid, in fact, that she hates him. Whenever he tries to apologize, she spits in his face." Devi narrowed her eyes in concern as she caught a glimpse of Johnny's face - he was crying. He looked infuriated, sure, but was crying. Then it hit her. Johnny had, at first, been talking about him being addicted to killing, but for some reason, slipped into telling his own story. "The girl hates him, wants nothing to do with him. Nothing would make the girl happier then to hear of his death. So he tries to grant her at least _that _happiness." Devi's eyes widened. He'd tried to kill himself?

"I said I was-" Tess interrupted again. Johnny shook her slightly; a silent command for her to be quiet.

"He tries time and time again to end his life, grant the girl the happiness that she'll never have to deal with him again. But his addiction won't let him - something always intervenes. Stops him. Forgetting to charge the tazer, realizing the 24/7 man has just one bullet only _after _shooting him, idiotic things like that." He took a breath, about to continue when Devi jumped forward, grabbing the maniacs shoulder and dodging an instinctively swung fist before pulling him off her friend. Bravely, the girl did not run, merely straightened her shirt and pulled away from him a little.

"That's enough Johnny..." Devi told him, gripping his shoulder confidently. "She doesn't _know _anything about you - just be calm." Johnny shuddered, obviously angry, but trying not to be.

"Where's Squeegee?" He asked, gazing around Devi's tiny apartment.

"I think he went down to Tenna's. Something about lots of homework and your being dangerous post-depression." Devi nudged him in the direction of the kitchen, smiling. "Show Tess your awesome cooking skills, Nny." Tess blinked.

"A psychotic mass-murder can cook?" Johnny scoffed as he began pulling out various items from Devi's kitchen cupboards.

"Well, when you live alone and must also cook for your starving kid neighbor who parents resent his very existence, you learn quick." He grabbed a container from Devi's fridge, then paused for a moment. "You need more Mayo soon."

"Why do you need mayo?" Devi asked, now curious about what the man was cooking. Johnny was silent for a few minutes before speaking.

"...Hamburgers de poulet avec la mayonnaise ail-romarin." He muttered, sounding very distracted. "...Sorry; Chicken burgers with garlic-rosemary mayonnaise." Devi's eyes narrowed, and she took several steps toward him.

"Johnny... By any chance, are you _french_?" (1) Johnny shrugged.

"I don't know. I could guess not, seeing as I have a perfectly American accent. I might have been in a french course in school, my parents might have taught me... Keep in mind I remember nothing past... well, moving in to seven-seven-seven, recently."

"It's weird hearing you speak french." Tess said carefully as she took a few steps closer to the man. Johnny fiddled with the things on the stove.

"It's weird _speaking _french. I didn't know it wasn't English till I listened to myself." Tess took another step closer, watching as Johnny mixed the two spices.

"You can speak french, but don't remember learning it?" Johnny nodded.

"Pretty much." Devi turned to the girl.

"What did you mean, Johnny was shot?" Johnny began to mix the spices together with the mayonnaise, eyes flicking over to the burgers cooking on the stove every once in a while. However, before Tess could answer Devi, Johnny spoke.

"I'd set up a robotic arm device that I'd designed to shoot me; I connected it to the phone, and a motion tracker. When I lifted the phone, that would activate the tracker, and cause the arm that held the gun to follow me. When I spoke into the phone, it would fire. The doughboys suspected it would fail - nobody called me, ever." Devi felt increasingly guilty. She had called Johnny once. She had been answered by a meek 'hello', followed by a gunshot, the sound of a body hitting ground, and a scream. "But then, after I yelled at them, my phone actually rang!" He seemed pleased for a moment, then distracted himself for a second by flipping the burgers. "So I answered. I forgot about the device, though. It fired, and I got shot in the face. I don't remember much after that. I do remember this one fellow, though. His head looked like a potato. I think he kicked me in the face a bunch of times, but after that, I only remember being in Heaven. And I've already said what happens after that." Devi felt like punching herself. It seemed as though she had been the inadvertent cause of Johnny being shot. "But I'm back - God didn't want me, and neither did Mr. Satan."

"How are you sure that's even true?" Johnny grinned a mildly disturbing smile as he responded.

"Just ask Squeegee! He's best friends with the Antichrist. Squee said the kids father is Satan." Devi groaned again. It seemed as though she had no choice but to believe what Johnny was saying was true. The man seemed insistent that he'd really gone to heaven and hell.

"Johnny..." Devi started. "Why did you try to kill yourself? And, well, succeed, but that's not the point." Johnny poked the burgers again, not looking away from the stove.

"It was the Doughboys. I'd found out what they were trying to do, more or less, and I wanted out." He grabbed some hamburger buns from her cupboard, carefully spreading the sauce he'd made onto them, then flipping the burgers onto them, and putting them onto a plate. "But I'm free of them now. You don't have to worry about that." He grinned disturbingly. "Hamburger?" Tess cautiously took one, biting into it only once she had backed away to a safe distance.

"This is good!" Tess exclaimed. Johnny grinned, turning to Devi.

"And you?" Taking one, Devi bit into it, semi-eager to have more of the maniac's cooking. Part of her expected shrapnel baked into it, but her more logical side told her that it was highly unlikely he'd managed to slip shrapnel into frozen hamburgers while they watched him. She could tell that Johnny was eager for her critique, though - he was staring at her expectantly, as though waiting for her to talk.

"It is good. I like it." She heard Johnny make a very quiet 'happy' noise before he turned, shifting all the dirty dishes into the sink. He made to wash them, but Devi stopped him, gesturing for him to stop while also not touching him.

"What?" He asked, tapping his fingers together in a nervous sort of way. "Do _you_ want to do the dishes?" Devi chuckled.

"No, not that. if you want to, go ahead, but I was gonna ask if you, and Tess, if you want to go to the movies. You've been really good these past few days, and I think it's time for a night out." Johnny grinned happily, and turned to the girl named Tess.

"Do you mind?" Tess raised an eyebrow.

"Mind what?"

"Do you want to stay here? Or come with us?" Tess chuckled lightly.

"Oh, sure. I'll come." Devi stared at the girl in surprise.

"Johnny doesn't scare you?" She shook her head.

"Not Johnny specifically, no. Just that the last time I saw him he had a bullet through his brain, and now he's up and fine like it never happened."

"Oh. Well" She said "C'mon - we've got a movie to go to. I'll call Tenna and tell her we're going out for a little while, make sure she doesn't send Todd back up here while we aren't home." And with that, the trio headed out to the resident movie theater, all three, for once, happy.

* * *

(1) - I'm sorry. I had to. The idea of Johnny being fluent in french or even _BEING _french makes me laugh _so _hard.

0o0o0o0

OH MY GOD THESE PEOPLE ARE GETTING SO OOC. Crazy. I need to read more JtHM, seriously. Johnny is getting _way _too normal. I need a killing spree - where is Johnny's hateful, hateful killer side? Anyway, I'm kinda free-writing - meaning I'm not actually trying to write and follow the plot, just writing as it comes to me. That may or may not be bad, but, eh.  
I'm writing them as going to the Theater because these freaks NEED to leave Devi's apartment. If you pay attention, nobodies left for ages, apart from Johnny sending Squee to School, and Devi and Johnny going out for junk food. I need to write lengthy outside bits, and fast.

On another note - I write this end bit as I practically FREEZE to death. You may have heard about Hurricane Igor? Yes? No? Well, regardless, I was IN it. Knocked down one of our satellite dishes, and took out our power. We've got power back, obviously, but our heater won't turn back on. So I'm being warmed solely by the residual heat from this computer.


	9. Theater Mess

**Disclaimer:** Johnny C (and all related) is property of the great comic artist; Jhonen Vasquez.

**Authors Notes:** Once I posted the previous chapter, I remembered that Johnny wasn't wearing a shirt (I'd forgotten that little plot point halfway through writing the chapter) - and I technically wrote him going out to see a movie in only a pair of pants. How about you guys just pretend that he got dressed, _then _left? That would make me feel better.

* * *

Devi found amusement in Tess and Johnny's conversation - when they first began walking towards the theater, Johnny had started rambling off the different constellations, and had somehow managed to rope Tess into quizzing him on them. The conversation had lasted for a good ten minutes before they -being Devi herself, Johnny, and Tess- began to pass by people. And that was when Johnny became quieter than what he'd been at Devi's house. Devi knew Johnny didn't like people. But she had figured it to be more of a social uncomfortablility, because if he got to talking with people -who treated him normally- he would be rather interesting to talk to. The conversation about the constellations, for example.

But at this time, Johnny was not speaking. He was walking, hunched over slightly with his hands in his pockets and generally looking as though he wanted the rest of the world to disappear. And when the group of strangers they passed by spoke up, she began to realize why.

"Hey, check out that wacky-looking bunch." The two girls paused as Johnny froze, twitching his hand in a manner that Devi knew did not bode well. Well, it was decidedly less so seeing as Johnny had no knives, but still. If his previous murders where anything to go by, he did not necessarily _need _knives to kill people. But Devi caught him glancing at her, and she let out a quiet sigh of relief as he took a step forward, grumbling death-threats angrily under his breath but otherwise not paying the men any attention. However, just as the painter thought that she'd manage a night out with friends without death being involved, the group spoke again.

"Yo, check it out. That dude is the only guy." Another man spoke up, chuckling.

"Means he'd gotta be gay. Dudes a _fag_, bro." Johnny froze again, and Devi turned to Tess, who was watching Johnny worriedly. Turning back to the maniac, Devi watched him look over at the group of males, only to get hit in the face with a -thankfully- empty coffee cup. Devi could've throttled the men for being so stupid, but Johnny had beaten her to the punch - he had dove forward, gripping the man who had first spoken by the throat. His friends had taken off, screaming that black-haired man attacking their friend was insane; which he very well was. Johnny was shaking the man, gripping his hands tightly around the now-victims throat as he spoke.

"Now, normally I don't resort to this sort of physically violent method when I try to kill somebody, but taking into consideration my current state of affairs and how I am distinctly lacking in weaponry, I _think _I can make an exception tonight." The man stared at Johnny in terror, and just as the maniacs hand began to tighten harder, Devi ran forward.

"Stop it Johnny!" She gripped his arms from behind, and the simple act of grabbing him disturbed Johnny's momentum enough for his grip on the man's throat to falter. The man pulled away, holding his neck and tearing off in the same direction his friends had gone. He turned to her, obviously about to yell, but seemed to remember who exactly he was with, and turned again, not saying a word as the group continued on it's way.

"Johnny." He heard Devi say. "You can't kill people." He scoffed lightly, hands back in his pockets.

"You must have me mistaken with somebody else then. I'm perfectly capable of murder. I _have_ been doing it for almost three years, may I remind you."

"You know what I mean, Johnny." She sighed. "If you want my help in this, you've gotta get a better grip on your anger. It's a fact of life that not everyone on this planet is gonna like you enough to treat you well." Johnny narrowed his eyes. He hated to admit it, but Devi was right. Not everyone like him, so those people, good people or not, would not treat him like a friend.

"Hey look!" Tess exclaimed, breaking the awkward feeling in the air as they neared the Theater. "The new Wormhole Extreme movie is out." Johnny glanced at Tess, then back at the Theater, staring at the poster Tess was referencing.

"The original was better, by far" He said, quickly forgetting the serious topic he'd just been on with Devi.

"Yeah, and the new series they've got going; Wormhole Universe? It's absolute crap. I mean don't get me wrong, it's a good idea, but..." She turned to him. "Did you know they've been using the same writers since Wormhole Extreme first came out? That's why it's been losing so many fans that were otherwise completely loyal to the series." (1) Johnny's eyes widened in interest as they entered the theater.

"Really?" Devi sighed.

"Okay, if you two are done talking about shows I'm certain neither of you watch, let's pick out a movie." Devi stared at them expectantly. "That _is _what we came here for, right? To watch a movie?" Tess chuckled.

"Alright, calm down. We were just talking." The trio moved over to where the theater was showing off the movies it played, reading the titles.

"That 'New Nightmare' movie looks good." (2) The maniac grinned. Perhaps by watching it, he would learn new ways of torturing people. Ways that _didn't_ involve him kidnapping them and eventually their death.

"No way." Devi said flatly. "There's _no way_ I'm letting a homicidal maniac watch an 'R' rated horror flick." She turned to him, arms folded across her chest. "I'm trying to get you to _stop _killing, not inspire new methods." Johnny groaned quietly in disappointment as Devi turned to Tess. "Anything you see that you feel like watching?" The girl shook her head.

"Not really. I'm good with most of these films, I've been meaning to see most of them for a while now. But 'New Nightmare' _does _look good - horror movie villain that kills people in their dreams escapes out of his movies and into the real world? I'm good with that." Devi sighed, glaring at Johnny as the man grinned. She was two against one, and Johnny knew it.

"Okay, what about..." She scanned the list again. "Independence Day?" Johnny raised an eyebrow, confused.

"What's it about...?" Reading the short description, Devi grinned. Johnny would _love _this.

"Aliens trying to take over the earth." Johnny's eyes widened, and Devi found herself grinning at him. Johnny had a thing about aliens - when in his less lucid moments (though she was currently beginning to doubt that most of anything he said was a lie), he would rant about them having come down and kidnapped his kid neighbor, -Todd- then later on, the boy's parents. He had even told her that he had painted 'LAND HERE' in big, thick, ink-black letters on his roof. Yes, anything with aliens in it would have Johnny by the throat.

"Really? Do we win, or do the aliens?" Devi chuckled at the childlike -yet still very crazy- excitement in his eyes.

"I don't know, we haven't watched the movie yet." He bounced up and down once before pulling her towards the ticket counter.

"Well, come on! Let's buy the tickets already! I need to know how these aliens die; their weakness, so I can write it down for later!" Tess raised an eyebrow as she followed the two along.

"What do you mean?" Johnny turned to glare at her, pausing in his attempts to drag Devi to the Ticket stand.

"I have to learn the weakness of this particular alien species - so then, if they decide to come to Earth, I'll know how to kill them!" Tess stared at him.

"You do know this is a fictitious movie, right? As in not real?" Devi shook her head as Johnny sighed, rushing off to buy the tickets himself. Tess turned to the painter. "Is he serious?"

"About as serious as the military under full alert. I don't know where it stems from, but he really does believe that malevolent aliens will come to earth, and attempt to take over." She chuckled airily as she continued, remembering an incident from before his attempt to kill her. "I made the mistake of asking him about it once, and wound up the student in some twisted lesson about aliens. It took me three hours to get him to stop talking." Tess laughed disbelievingly.

"Really?"

"Yeah, he's completely serious about it - anything that has something to do with aliens, he's gotta watch it, or read it, so he can lock it away in his head just in case they come down and attack." Tess gazed over at the maniac, who was currently waiting patiently in line to purchase the movie tickets.

"How'd you figure this out?"

"He mentioned it somewhere in his alien history lesson." She chuckled, watching Nny fumble around his pockets for the appropriate amount of money with which to buy their tickets. "Oh yeah, did I mention I was working at the time?" Tess only laughed, turning when Johnny ran up to the two girls, waving the tickets as he grinned silently. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted as a crushed soda can bounced off the back of his head, causing the grin he had previously been wearing to vanish, replaced with an irritated frown. He turned around, tickets still held tightly in his hands, trailing his eyes across the room as he searched for his assailants. He began to growl quietly when he spotted them; a group of ignorant-looking highschoolers chuckling amusedly at him, one of the boys looking smug as he sipped from another soda. The boy turned and spoke to his friends, but despite not being able to hear them, Johnny seemed to get angrier and angrier.

0o0o0o0

Devi could almost literally see a fire ignite in Johnny's eyes as he caught sight of the teens. He'd already been assaulted tonight, but had not been allowed to relieve the resulting anger and irritation, so he would've been very easy to set off again. She placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. Johnny turned to look at her, eyes pleading her to let him harm them in some way.

"No, Johnny. You do, and I'm gone for good this time." He growled, but not at her. Still holding onto him -to make sure he didn't do anything- she led him to their showing. But not, however, before Johnny managed to make a slicing motion over his neck and pointing at the teens, in lieu of a threat. The group laughed, mocking him as he disappeared into the show room. (3)

0o0o0o0

Devi did not expect her maniac roommate -_was _he her roommate, now?- to sit through the movie. In fact, she had been reasonably surprised when he did not get up, not even after a half an hour. She did notice, however, the highly irritated look in his eyes that said to her he was not paying any attention to the movie at all. Which rather surprised her, considering how excited he had been to get into this movie.  
Halfway through, she was both surprised and not surprised to see him get up slowly, muttering to her with a hidden, yet still quite detectable tone of anger in his voice.

"I have to... go to the bathroom." Devi narrowed her eyes, suspecting his true intentions were to find the boys from before, and hurt them. But with no definitive proof, she couldn't exactly keep him there. What if he really did need to go to the bathroom?

"...Fine." Hands once more in his pockets, he hurried out of the way of the other people watching the movie, vanishing as he turned the corner out of the room and back into the lobby. Devi sighed. She just knew she was going to regret this.

0o0o0o0

By the time the movie had finished, Johnny still had not returned. Tess had pointed this out not long before the credits had begun to roll; he had been gone for at least forty minutes. She had told the girl that she was pretty sure she knew why. She knew what to expect: blood, gore, internal and very vital body-bits splattered everywhere. Knowing by this point that Johnny had left in order to kill the teenagers unrestrained, the two girls left before the movie was completely done - a big crowd was the last thing they needed.

"So... what kind of gore should I expect...? Freddy Kreuger after a big spree, or careful kills with little mess?" Devi shook her head.

"I don't know. But he might still be angry when we get him, so be careful." They headed out into the lobby, Tess following closely behind Devi, expecting to see a very pissed-off psychopath. Instead, what she saw was Johnny, kneeling above a corpse with a bloody popcorn scoop held tightly in his fist, other mutilated corpses strewn randomly around him. He was pounding the scoop into the very-dead teenager quite hard, looking absolutely murderous. Until he saw the two girls staring at him.

The scoop fell to the ground with a light thud, and he stared at Devi with a look of complete terror in his eyes. She strode closer, folding her arms as she neared him. Johnny, looking as though he was about to get gutted, himself, tripped over the corpse in an attempt to get farther away from Devi.

"I-it's not what it-" He raised his hands as though in an attempt to keep her calm, but was cut off mid-sentence as Devi's heel collided with his head, sending him crashing backwards into the nearby concession stand. He grunted at the impact, but remained still, blood trailing slowly down his face from the area she had kicked, crawling down between his eyes.

"Dammit Johnny." Devi muttered, walking closer. Tess followed, looking shocked by the bloody mess in the center of the lobby.

"What now?" Tess managed to get out, looking over at the girl. Devi sighed again before speaking.

"We take him back to my place and fix him up... I promised him I wouldn't run away again. As must as he infuriates and sometimes terrifies me, he _needs _somebody." She hefted the unconscious maniac up, his arms and upper torso hanging over her shoulder and dangling across her back. "Johnny's been alone for as long as he can remember. He hates people, but he hates being alone just as much. For me to toss him out now would only break him more." She motioned for Tess to follow. "And plus" She said, grabbing the popcorn scoop -it was evidence of Johnny being the killer, that the police didn't need- "I'm the only person he trusts enough to tell his darkest secrets to."

The walk back to her car was quiet, the only noise being Johnny breathing uneasily in the back seat of the car as they drove back to Devi's apartment. It was evidence of either bad dreams, or injuries worse than she'd thought.  
Devi sighed. She didn't know what to do. It was practically in Johnny's nature to kill, to murder.

So what, exactly, would it take; to drive a demon away from sinning?

* * *

(1) - Bonus props times a _thousand _for those of you who recognize the topic Tess and Johnny are talking about. (it's a real show, just under a different name) Also - the opinions they express about the show are my own. Please don't flame me about them. Oh yeah, the 'writers' thing Tess brings up? It's true. The bit about 'fans', as well.

(2) - Reference to the Nightmare on Elm Street movie under the same name. Also, a little fun-fact; this particular movie was released in 1994 - right around the time the JtHM comics were being published. Meaning, it would be at least relatively new to theaters in Johnny's time period.

(3) - I can't remember what the different rooms in the theaters are called.

0o0o0o0

This is going to be the last update for probably all of my active stories for a while - while I _will _be planning out next chapter for the last few days of October, I will be thoroughly occupied for the entirety of November. I am participating in National Novel-Writing Month (otherwise known as NanoWrimo. You can find more info at 'Nanowrimo. org'), meaning you can probably expect the next chapter to be finished and uploaded sometime around mid-December.

I apologize beforehand for the long wait.


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